Love You Till Next Tuesday
by Ars Amatoria
Summary: Just when Ginny has resigned herself to the fact that Harry will never like her in THAT way, a mysterious potion changes everything. But can she resist an affection she knows isn’t real? Mystery, suspense, and Harry in a towel. Could you ask for more?
1. Toil and Trouble

Chapter One: Toil and Trouble 

A/N: Title is inspired by the title of Sherylyn's 'Love You Till Forever'. I'm going to call this 'flangst' – fluffy angst. This plot bunny attacked me in the shower. Had to beat it off with a loofah. ;)

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She could have laughed. It was so close now. The recipe seemed complicated and some of the ingredients had been difficult to get hold of, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She'd already proven that last night as she narrowly escaped Filch after an illicit trip to Snape's office, lugging a bag containing a vial of snake blood, an Ashwinder egg and a paper bag full of chipped amber. Other more specialised ingredients, such as shredded Yohimbe bark, she had had to owl-order in especially, but it would be worth it. It had to be. 

She arranged the ingredients along the stone bench of the abandoned dungeon and then took out a ripped and faded page, torn from a book in the Restricted Section. She perused it carefully, though she already knew it by heart. Then she double-checked the list of ingredients one by one, knowing that they would all be there, donned a pair of dragon hide gloves, lit the fire and got to work.

_Bring goats' milk to the boil, and add skin of horned toad and vervain roots, finely chopped, stirring constantly widdershins with pliant willow wand, _the recipe began, and the instructions got more complicated as she diligently followed them one by one. Hours passed and her hair was damp with steam by the time she had followed the final direction: _cast rose into solution and allow to dissolve undisturbed until a blood-red colour is achieved, then remove from heat and allow to cool. _

As the cauldron cooled, steam curling off it in long tendrils, she collapsed onto a bench, taking the weight off her feet for the first time all night. She'd had a dozen scares throughout her night's work, unease making her jumpy, so that every whistle of the wind or drip of damp sounded like the approach of Filch or Snape or Mrs. Norris. She dreaded to think what would happen if she got caught. To be out of bed and out of bounds at three in the morning was bad enough, but to be found making a forbidden potion with stolen ingredients would probably get her expelled.

Steam had stopped rising from the mouth of the cauldron now, and she padded over to cast a few cooling charms. It was blood red all right, like the book had said, but was it supposed to be so dark, like dried blood? Maybe she had put too much rose attar in after all. That wasn't a healthy colour, she mused as she decanted the now cooled solution into a crystal flask. Still, it probably made no difference. Just as long as it worked.

Now all that remained to do was to administer the potion, arguably the hardest part of her plan, and the most dangerous. But if anyone could do it, it was she. She allowed herself a thin smile. He would never know what hit him. And if he did – it would be too late.

"That'll do for today!" Ron yelled to the team, touching down his sturdy Keeper's broom, and Harry felt a little disappointed that the Quidditch practice hadn't gone on longer. Flying his Firebolt today had been more exhilarating than usual, though Harry couldn't tell why. Perhaps it was because he hadn't flown in days, but Harry's gravity-defying stunts and Seeker tricks had made his head buzz with excitement. Ron had spent the past hour and a half drilling the team on their barrel roll, starfish and various feinting manoeuvres, and from the rest of the team's relieved expressions it was obvious that they at least were glad it was over.

Harry enjoyed the feel of the wind rushing past him as he went into a dive so fast the other team members became nothing but a blur of scarlet and gold. Pulling out of the dive just feet from the ground, he landed lightly and grinned at Ginny, who had just touched down nearby. Feeling a little light-headed, probably from flying so fast, he gave himself a moment to find his feet before he joined her in walking to the changing rooms.

"Think Ron's feeling the strain of captaincy?" Ginny asked wryly as they watched him lose his temper with a fifth-year Beater for carrying his broomstick by the bristles.

Harry chuckled. "I think it's the strain of meeting Slytherin next week."

"Yeah, I just wish he wouldn't take it out on us."

Harry caught sight of Hermione sitting with a book in the stands. "Fancy missing out on Ron's little post-practice rant?" he asked.

"You kidding?" laughed Ginny, seeing Hermione. "Let's go."

Hermione looked up and closed her book as they approached. "How was it?"

"Great," said Harry.

"Well done, by the way," Ginny said to Harry as they sat down. "Your rolls were amazing."

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Yes, well done," echoed Hermione, looking over Harry's shoulder. "Where's Ron going?"

"He's probably going to the changing rooms to dissect everyone's performances. Technically, Ginny and I should be there too." 

"But he's turned into such a slave-driver, what with the Slytherin match coming up, we thought we'd try to escape," added Ginny. 

"He'll be after us later, you know," groaned Harry.

"How does he dissect the girls' performances when they're in a different changing room?" Hermione asked.

Harry laughed. "He stands outside the door with his eyes closed and yells in what they did wrong. You should have seen the expression on his face last week when Mena Selari burst out in a towel to tell him exactly where he could stick his Porskoff Ploy!"

Ginny began to laugh, remembering the look on Ron's face. It had been somewhat akin to his expression the summer after fifth year when he came downstairs one morning at the Burrow to find Hermione in the kitchen eating toast in tiny shorts and a tank top.

She caught Harry's eye and they both looked at Hermione, at which point their laughs trailed off. Her lips were drawn into a thin line which reminded Ginny very much of McGonagall. She didn't seem to find it very funny.

Ginny rapidly changed the subject. "Your Firebolt must be brilliant for moves like the Wronski Feint, Harry, with that handling and acceleration."

"Yeah, it is. You ever tried it?" He glanced at Hermione, who looked distracted.

"Which, a Firebolt or a Wronski feint?"

"Either."

She laughed, and couldn't resist an admiring glance at the beautiful streamlined handle of the broom in his lap. "You must be kidding. Where would I get my hands on a Firebolt? And if I tried a Wronski feint you'd be scraping me off the pitch for days."

"I bet you could do it if you tried," said Harry. "You're not bad on a broom, though your brothers never seem to give you the chance to play at the Burrow."

"You noticed that too?" Ginny cried triumphantly. "Though I think being a Gryffindor Chaser this year may just count in my favour when it comes to picking teams for the Annual All-Weasley Quidditch Championships. Mind you, they'd never let me be a Beater, no matter how good I got."

"Beater?" Harry tried not to smile at the thought of the delicate Ginny wielding a hefty Beater's bat. He failed.

"Oh, think it's funny, do you? You just wait till I get a Beater's bat in my hand and a decent broomstick between my legs, then we'll see how funny it is," she threatened. Just then she glanced at Hermione's blank face and realised that this was hardly a conversation she could join in. _Way to change the subject, genius, _she chastised herself. 

Ginny turned the conversation to her OWLs, which she would be taking this summer, and the lack of revision she had done. This at least was a subject at which Hermione excelled, and Ginny was pleased to see her dark expression had lifted as she tried to convince her that it was _never_ too early to start revising. 

"…And then there's Quickleton Winceworthy's OWL revision guides, which I can't recommend highly enough if you're like Ron and can't even read your own notes. Not that you are," she added. "But you can have mine if you like, I won't be needing them again…"

"Knows them by heart," Harry muttered, grinning. He noticed Ron had finished in the changing rooms and was making his way up the stands towards them.

"It's all very well to mock, Harry, but the OWLs are no joke. I had no end of trouble convincing you and Ron to do some revision, but it paid off in the end, didn't it?"

"Only because you intimidated us into it," retorted Ron genially as he sat down next to Hermione, who jumped.

"And all this," said Harry to Ginny with a smirk, "You have to look forward to."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, Harry, she does. And think what fun we'll all have revising for our NEWTs next year. You have all that to look forward to."

Harry winced, Ginny laughed, and Ron muttered "sadist" under his breath. Hermione glared frostily at Ron and Harry suddenly wished he were somewhere else. It felt like the temperature had just dropped a couple of degrees.

Ginny jumped up. "Anyway, great practice, Ron, but I have to go now, I've got some Charms to do."

"I should get changed," said Harry, getting up with equal alacrity. "I'll see you two later."

"See you, Harry," said Ron. "Oh, and while you're there, could you empty my flask and bring it up to the common room when you come?"

"Sure," Harry replied.

"Well, that was awkward," said Harry as soon as they were out of hearing distance.

"I know, I completely forgot Hermione hates Quidditch conversations."

"And I should never have mentioned Mena Selari in a towel." Harry ran his hand ruefully through his hair as the sound of Hermione shouting drifted towards them on the breeze.

"Still, it sounded pretty funny," said Ginny. "Just maybe not the best thing to say in front of Hermione."

"It was funny! He came back in, red as a beetroot, muttering about scarlet women and Chasers who thought they knew better than their captain. Then he wouldn't say anything for a full ten minutes."

Ginny snickered. "Sounds like Ron, all right."

Harry stopped and turned in time to see Hermione storm off, with Ron in hot pursuit. "Anyone would think they were an old married couple, the way they bicker," he said wryly.

"I made the unfortunate mistake of telling Ron that last month."

"What did he have to say to that?"

"I don't think I should repeat it," she replied, chuckling. "Needless to say it's not the sort of thing Mum would like to hear him say."

They reached the entrance to the changing rooms. "See you, Harry," said Ginny with a half wave as she continued to walk on.

"See you." Harry had just propped up his Firebolt by the door when a thought occurred to him. He grinned. "Hey, Ginny!" he called after her. "Could you do me a favour?"

This wasn't a favour, Ginny reflected from a hundred feet above the Quidditch stadium. This was a dream come true. The Firebolt handled like no broom she'd ever flown before. She'd learned to fly on a succession of old Cleansweeps and she'd once flown a friend's Nimbus, but nothing could compare to this. It reacted to her slightest touch like it could read her mind. She did a neat roll and could have laughed at the ease with which it was executed. No need to force the tail down to stay stable like with a Cleansweep, and there was so little drag that were it not for her hair being whipped back from her face she could almost have forgotten about the heavy headwind.

She made a wide circle of the darkening pitch. Whatever had possessed Harry to give it to her? He was notoriously protective of his Firebolt, to the point that a rumour was circulating amongst the younger Gryffindor girls that he actually took it to bed with him. But then again, maybe that was exactly why he'd given it to her – he didn't want to leave it alone for even a minute. "Could you look after it for me while I have a shower and get changed?" he'd asked, accompanying the request with a smile she couldn't have refused if she'd wanted to. "Have a fly around, get the feel of it. Just don't try any Wronski feints, I don't want to have to explain to Ron why I had to scrape you off the pitch." She smiled involuntarily at the memory and did a spontaneous upward spiral followed by a steep nosedive, marvelling at the broom's sheer manoeuvrability. This was a model that would really age well, she thought. It would probably still go for thousands of Galleons years after it went out of production. 

Ginny loved broomsticks. She wasn't a bad flyer, but what really interested her was the work that went into making each broom skyworthy. Most Quidditch players never realised the intensive research and testing that went into perfecting the balance of charms that allowed them to fly. One charm out of place, one wrong calculation by the arithmanticians, and an ordinary manoeuvre could turn into a disaster. A highly powered racing broom like the Firebolt would have hundreds of different spells on it and must have taken years to develop, each new charm having to be meticulously tried and tested before it could be used. 

She'd read in 'What Broomstick?' that four new acceleration regulation charms, eight new stability charms and a dozen others had been developed especially for the Firebolt series and patented by the makers. It was a well-known fact that they were already working on plans for other Firebolt models, although the whole thing was shrouded in secrecy. Everyone working for the company had signed strict non-disclosure contracts, although it was rumoured that the next model was scheduled to appear on the market in three years' time. How Firebolt enthusiasts would be able wait that long was anybody's guess.

Ever since she was eight years old, all Ginny had wanted to do was make broomsticks. Up until then, she'd been sure she wanted to go to Africa like Bill and kill mummies and bring back treasure, but then Dad took her and Ron to see the local broom-maker and she had watched him turn a dead bit of wood into a responsive instrument of flight before her very eyes. That was when she'd first become interested in what made brooms fly. She'd gone right home and braved the ghoul in the attic to find her old play-broom, which never went more than a few feet above the ground. Then she'd spent ages poking and prodding it with Mum's wand until eventually it had shot into a high tree, taking her with it, and she'd been stuck there for a good half-hour until Mum found her and gave her the scolding of her life. 

She'd grown up a bit since then, though her interest had never faded. If she got enough NEWTs, with very good marks in Charms and Arithmancy, she hoped she'd be able to get an apprenticeship at one of the leading broom companies when she left Hogwarts, and see what happened from there. At the moment she liked the idea of becoming part of a charm-development team, although who knew what options might lie ahead for her?

Ginny turned in a lazy arc round the north goal posts and then spotted Harry waving at her from the ground. Trying not to be too disappointed at having to stop flying so soon, she landed with ease and walked over to him.

"You didn't get blown away, then?" Harry joked as Ginny approached, holding the Firebolt reverently before her.

"Harry, that was…. bloody brilliant!" she gasped, running a hand ineffectually through her wind-ravaged hair. "The handling… the control… the sheer acceleration…" Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed as she searched for the words to describe the feeling Harry got every time he mounted the broom. "It was just… wow. Thank you so much, Harry."

Something happened to his stomach, and he wasn't quite sure what. It felt like a cross between pins and needles and pre-Quidditch butterflies. Ignoring it, he laughed, secretly pleased that he wasn't the only one who could be rendered incoherent by a ten-minute broomstick flight. "If I'd known you'd like it so much, I'd have lent it to you before now," he said.

"They certainly knew what they were doing when they made that broom," she said as she held it out, her hands rather unwilling to let go of the smooth, polished surface.

"I heard they're making a new model," he added as he took it from her. Their fingers brushed and Harry gasped as what felt like an electric shock shot up his arm.

"What's wrong?" Ginny looked alarmed as he snatched his hand away, letting the broom fall to the grass.

He looked at his hand, flexing the fingers experimentally, and then glanced worriedly at her. "I don't - know…" he trailed off as his eyes met hers, and he shivered as a wave of cold rushed over his warm skin, which was quickly engulfed by a wave of intense heat from within that inflamed his senses and quickened his heart. The tremulous rhythm of his pounding heart filled his head like the beat of a drum and a searing rush of blood to his head temporarily blinded him. He pressed his hands to his eyes, willing himself not to collapse under the dizzying vertigo that had just kicked in.

"Harry!" Ginny's voice reached him as though from a distance, tinged with panic. He was acutely aware of cool hands touching his shoulders, sending fresh waves of heat searing through his veins until he trembled.

"Is it your scar? I'm going to get help!" he heard faintly, and he could only stretch out his hands in a silent plea as her reassuring touch disappeared.

"No," he managed to whisper hoarsely through the lump that had risen in his throat. She took his outstretched hands. 

"I have to get someone to help you," she said, gently trying to pull her hands away from his. But he wouldn't let go. Couldn't let go. Tentatively he opened his eyes and almost staggered as shadowy shapes filled his vision. Slowly the world came back into focus, the darkening pitch swimming into view, Quidditch hoops dark against the dying sunset, and…

… and Ginny.

She was standing before him looking upset, trying ineffectually to free her hands from his grip. "Harry, come on. We have to find Pomfrey, or… or Dumbledore or someone." But Harry couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to. All he could do was stand and stare as fire and ice pulsed through his veins, flooding him with a bittersweet sensation that chased all rational thought from his mind.

"I'm fine," he said hoarsely, reluctantly letting go of her tugging hands. No sooner had he done so then as if drawn by puppet strings his hand reached up and cupped her the side of her face, stroking the skin of her cheek with its thumb. 

Her mouth fell open in shock. 

His other hand placed itself on her waist and pulled her gently towards him, his heart giving a thrill at the soft gasp she emitted. "Really, I'm fine," he murmured, his face inches from her own, as he lost himself in the depths of her soft brown eyes.

The pause that followed seemed like a lifetime.

"Harry?" Ginny eventually whispered unsteadily, her ragged breath tickling his lips.

"Yes?"

Her voice was firmer and her distress was unmistakeable as she spoke. "I think- I think there's something wrong with you."

With some considerable effort he let his hands fall to his sides and tried to steady his breathing and clear his thoughts. "You know," he said, a dull ache shooting through him at the thought that he was the cause of the pain in her eyes, "I think you may be right."

* * *

To Be Continued… 


	2. Dazed and Confused

Chapter Two: Dazed And Confused

As it usually was on Friday evenings, the Gryffindor common room was crowded and humming with conversation, though tonight the noise level had been raised somewhat by a group of third-years attempting to play poker with exploding snap cards. Every so often the conversation would be punctuated with a loud 'SNAP!' and a squeak from whoever had got their fingers singed.

Ron was sitting with Hermione on large overstuffed chairs near the fireplace, attempting to interest her in a Quidditch magazine.

"Look," he said with a slight air of desperation, "Oliver Wood's in here! He's off the bench at last, playing Keeper for the Scunthorpe Sparrows!"

Hermione looked up from her book and glanced at the page containing the picture of a grinning Oliver Wood and his new teammates. "That's great," she said unconvincingly before looking back to her page.

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Are you still annoyed about the whole Mena thing?" he asked, glancing worriedly across the common room to where the dark-haired fifth year was sitting with a crowd of friends.

Hermione put down her book and looked up at him exasperatedly. "Ron, I've told you, I'm not annoyed at you! I'm just trying to read!"

Ron picked up the heavy volume and read the title, "_The Theory and Practice of Trans-Substantiary Elementalism." _He pulled a face and put it down quickly as if it was about to bite him, before turning back to his _Quidditch Monthly_. "Hopeless case," he muttered under his breath as Hermione began to read again. "Bloody hopeless."

"Full house!" shouted one of the poker players triumphantly.

_'CRACK!'_

There was an explosion and the table they were sitting round was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. As the smoke began to clear several sooty and slightly singed thirteen-years-olds emerged, looking bemused. One was clutching a blackened hand of cards.

"I still win, right?" he asked anxiously.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Shall I handle it?" asked Ron.

"Be my guest. They're more likely to listen to you anyway."

With a grin at Hermione, Ron got up and approached the third-years in menacing prefect mode.

At that moment the portrait swung open and Harry and Ginny climbed in. Catching sight of Hermione, Ginny immediately headed over, followed by Harry, who in Hermione's opinion looked a little funny.

Ginny sat down on the big squashy sofa opposite, holding Harry's Firebolt, and Harry sat down next to her.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked absently up from his Firebolt in Ginny's lap. "Hmm?"

"Er," said Ginny, and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Actually, I don't think he is."

"What's wrong?"

Ginny began to twist Harry's broom round in her hands. "Well, he had a sort of, um… turn earlier on the Quidditch pitch." She glanced sideways at him and went pink when she saw that he was staring at her. She looked back Hermione. "He went all funny and he seemed to be in pain, pressing his hands to his head and groaning-"

"Was it your scar?" the older girl interrupted, looking worriedly at Harry.

"No," said Harry quietly. "I just felt all – hot and cold, and I got this rush of blood- and then I couldn't see for a moment. It was really weird."

"Harry, that sounds serious," said Hermione. "You should go and see Madame Pomfrey."

"No!"

A few people turned to look at who had shouted. Harry blushed, and Hermione looked stern. "Harry, this could be something serious. You could have some disease. You could be feverish. Ginny, is his forehead hot?"

Ginny looked from Hermione to Harry. "Is-? Oh." Cottoning on, she gingerly reached out and touched his forehead briefly with the back of her hand. Harry tried to suppress a gasp when she touched him, but wasn't quite successful.

Hermione gave Harry a sharp look. "Did that hurt?"

"No," he mumbled, going red and looking at the floor. "It only-" he glanced at Ginny. "Nothing."

"Nothing," echoed Hermione, unconvinced. "Harry, if there's something wrong with you, why won't you just go and see Madame Pomfrey? Shouldn't he, Ginny?"

Ginny nodded mutely, at the same time shifting almost imperceptibly down the sofa away from Harry.

"But that's the thing," said Harry heatedly. "There is nothing wrong with me, not any more. There was about ten seconds where I felt funny, but now it's just-" he paused, frowning.

"Just…" prompted Hermione.

"He, er – went a bit weird after," began Ginny, blushing to the roots of her hair. "He looked at me funny, and then – well, I think he might be under some sort of – love spell."

Harry groaned in what sounded like agreement.

Hermione sat back, her eyes widening in shock. "A love spell?"

"I think so."

"And it's… towards you?"

Ginny nodded, distressed.

"I couldn't help it," burst out Harry, with a pained expression. "One minute I was fine and she was giving me my broomstick back, and the next I looked at her and just wanted to- you know. Kiss her. And stuff."

"Good Lord…" Hermione looked from one to the other, her eyes taking positively Trelawney-esque proportions. "So, you were completely fine during Quidditch? And when you spoke to me?"

Harry nodded.

"Let's look at it logically," said Hermione in a levelheaded way that almost made Harry feel a little better. "Something must have happened after you two went off, and that doesn't leave a very long time frame. Tell me exactly what you both did after you left me."

Harry and Ginny recounted what had happened in the few minutes after they'd left Hermione and Ron in the Quidditch stands. Hermione listened attentively, only stopping them when they reached the point in their story where Harry had fallen under the effects of the spell, as it was clear that neither of them was comfortable talking about what had happened.

"Alright, you don't have to give me the details," she said as they both stuttered and blushed to an awkward silence. They were at opposite ends of the sofa now, Ginny staring at the carpet and Harry staring at Ginny, a slightly dazed expression on his face. "Are you sure there wasn't anything else, Harry?" pressed Hermione. "Did you see anyone or anything strange? Did you eat or drink something unusual?"

"No," said Harry vaguely, apparently finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the girl next to him. "Nothing at all."

"Right." Hermione appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, before appearing to reach some sort of conclusion. "I don't think we should go to McGonagall or Pomfrey at the moment," she said, and even Harry looked round in surprise at such an uncharacteristic remark.

"You don't?" blurted Harry.

Hermione shook her head, and said carefully, "I think we should investigate just a little bit further before we do. Just to make sure."

Harry could have kissed her. Fortunately he was too busy thinking about kissing Ginny.

"It's the weekend tomorrow, so I'll go to the library and do some research. Harry, you can come and help, you know exactly what your symptoms were. Hopefully we'll be able to work out if you really are under a love spell."

"Great," he said dryly.

"There's just one problem we've overlooked, though," said Ginny quietly.

"What's that?"

She looked over to the other side of the room where her brother, red in the face, was attempting to wrest several playing cards from a stubborn third-year's grip. 

"Who's going to tell Ron?"

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, trying not to think. If she let herself think, she would remember the feel of Harry's hand, warm and rough against her cheek, and the gentle pressure he'd exerted on her waist as he pulled her towards him. She'd remember the feeling of his breath against her lips, and the fixed intensity in his bright eyes. It had been the perfect moment, her and Harry alone in the dying light, exactly what she used to dream about when she was thirteen.

But it had all been wrong.

Harry didn't want her. His movements had been against his will; had taken him by surprise as much as they had her. And his eyes had flickered with pain.

The way back to the castle had been the hardest. They'd walked in awkward silence, Ginny carrying Harry's broomstick, because he seemed to have forgotten about it. Every time Ginny glanced at Harry, he'd been staring back at her with a half-dazed, half-passionate look, like a lovesick deer caught in the headlights. Thankfully they'd only seen two people on their way: a mannish Slytherin girl skulking with a cigarette behind Greenhouse Three, and Neville, on his way to check on his Flutterby bushes. Neville had smiled and greeted the two of them, but Harry had barely noticed him. He'd been too busy looking at Ginny.

There had been a moment when he'd stumbled, when they were walking through a patch of rough grass and Harry was barely looking where he was going. She'd instinctively reached out to steady him, but the moment her hand touched his he'd snatched it away. "Sorry," he'd mumbled. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

"So what do you think's wrong with you?" she'd asked awkwardly as they approached the third floor, trying to breach the wall of silence that had sprung up between them, and then winced, because it seemed pretty obvious what was wrong with him.

He had been silent for a moment. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't feel wrong, not any more."

She'd stopped and turned to him, raising her eyebrows questioningly. "Come on. You don't feel like there's anything wrong?"

Harry had blushed. "Well – yes. But at the same time, no. It feels pretty right, actually." At that moment he almost looked like his normal self. Thrown for a moment, Ginny had turned and carried on down the corridor.

"Hermione and Ron will know what to do," she'd said with confidence she didn't feel.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted by a voice. "Are you asleep, Ginny?" Hermione's head poked round the curtain, and was shortly followed by the rest of her.

"No," said Ginny miserably.

Hermione came and sat on the bed next to her. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly hushed as Hermione pulled her wand from her pyjama sleeve and performed a Silencing charm on the heavy red drapes that surrounded the bed. "Best not to let anyone find out," she said conspiratorially.

"How did this happen?" Ginny asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I'm just so confused. He was fine one minute, and then- I just don't get it."

"I don't know, but I'm sure the answers are there. Don't worry about it, Ginny, it wasn't your fault. It might even have been an accident, someone losing control of their wand, a spell gone wrong…"

A small flame of suspicion appeared in Ginny's mind. "Hermione, why didn't you just go straight to McGonagall about this?" she asked, her forehead puckering into a slight frown. "Because that's not like you at all."

"I told you, I just wanted to be sure." She was avoiding Ginny's eyes.

"Sure of what, exactly?" she pressed.

"All right," admitted Hermione, "I just wanted to check, _check,_ mind, that you hadn't somehow accidentally… caused it yourself."

"WHAT?"

Looking exceedingly guilty, Hermione tried to defend herself. "I know, I know, it was stupid, and I know you'd never do something like that on purpose, but accidents do happen…"

Ginny was furious. "_Accidents_? How on earth do you _accidentally_ cast a love spell? I can't believe you're actually suggesting that I'd- I'd do something to Harry like that. He's suffering because of this, I'd never wish that upon him. All right, so I used to have a thing for him, you know that better than anyone, but to suggest- to suggest- ugh!" She made a disgusted noise.

Hermione looked discomfited. "I'm sorry, Ginny! But I just didn't want to go rushing off to Professor McGonagall and find out I'd got you in trouble. But now we know it wasn't you, it means we can work out who it was."

Ginny stared. "You mean – you're not going to tell McGonagall about it?"

Hermione sighed. "Not right away, no. First we have to tell Ron. Then I thought this weekend we could research love spells and have a look round the Quidditch stadium, see if that jogs either of your memories. If we don't know anything by Monday, Harry's going to Pomfrey."

"What if he doesn't want to go?"

"This is an important time, we've got loads of work. Harry needs to start thinking about his revision timetable, too, and he obviously can't think straight in this condition. He has to go."

"What time are you and Harry going to the library tomorrow? I'd like to come."

Hermione bit her lip. "Ginny, I don't think that would be a very good idea. We'd appreciate your help, really, but the last thing Harry needs is you there to distract him.

Ginny looked down at her entwined hands. "Oh. No, that's okay. I understand."

Her last thought before she dropped asleep that night was of Harry, and what he must be going through right now.

After hours of lying awake, Harry's last thought before he finally dozed off into fitful slumber was of Ginny.


	3. To the Library

Chapter Three: To The Library

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, especially Susan, Sparkle Tangerine and cornish-pixy. Appreciate it! :) Oh, and keep guessing, it amuses me! :p

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Harry woke up and immediately wondered when he'd fallen asleep. He'd been exhausted last night, but somehow he hadn't been able to drop off. Instead he'd lain there, running the night's events through his head again and again, trying to make some sense of them, trying to understand. But he'd always got stuck on thoughts of Ginny, mentally kicking himself over and over for doing what he'd done. She'd looked scared out of her wits, and had barely looked at him all the way back to the Tower. He didn't blame her, after the way he'd grabbed her like that. 

Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, Harry un-drew the drapes round his bed and was surprised to see that the dormitory was empty. He looked at his watch. Ten-fifteen! He'd missed breakfast. As if to confirm the fact, his stomach growled loudly. He wondered if Hermione had told Ron yet what had happened to him, and how Ron would react. Harry didn't want to admit it, but he was worried how his best friend would take it, Harry being in love – however fake logic said his feelings were – with his sister. 

Harry looked around quickly as soon as he got down to the common room. There was no sign of Ron and Hermione, but he immediately caught sight of Ginny sitting on her own at a table, hunched over a long piece of parchment, scribbling busily. Harry walked over, and she didn't notice him until he was almost on top of her. She looked up to think, sucking on the nib of her quill, and when she caught sight of Harry looming over her she jumped and gave him an awkward half-smile that made his stomach twist.

"Hey."

"Hey."

There was a pause. "Mind if I sit down?"

She glanced over at the portrait hole. "Er – no. Go ahead."

Harry took a seat opposite her and wondered what would be a good way to start a conversation. 'Hello, sorry I'm in love with you and molested you on the Quidditch pitch' just wouldn't cut it somehow.

The scratch of Ginny's quill against the parchment penetrated his thoughts. "What are you doing?" He glanced over her shoulder at the small, neat writing that already filled a foot of the parchment.

"Charms essay. _'Discuss the practical and theoretical reasoning behind the decision to label the '_Nevio'_ freezing charm as a Class B charm'._ Bloody hard."

Harry grimaced. "Charms classification. I always hated that."

"Me too."

Ginny dipped her quill in the ink and poised it over the parchment, frowning and sticking out the tip of her tongue in concentration. She seemed to want to work, and Harry wondered if he should go. He didn't want to, though, that was the problem, and as hard as some parts of his brain were telling him to go, other parts of him were telling him to stay, just a little bit longer, just so he could look at her properly for the first time. Her hair was so bright, tied back in that sleek ponytail, and how had he never noticed how long her eyelashes were? He was just taking a moment to admire the scattering of pale freckles across her nose and cheeks when she looked up, straight into his eyes.

Trying not to blush, and just knowing from the heat in his cheeks that he was failing miserably, Harry held her gaze.

It was electric.

He literally could not have moved, not even if he'd wanted to; his heart began to pound and his skin felt alive with prickling nerves. He began to feel light-headed, and realised he'd stopped breathing. Catching his breath, Harry began to feel that same urge he'd felt last night to touch her. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling; in fact it reminded Harry of something. Now what was it? He covered her hand with his and felt a warm melting feeling in his stomach, and a sense of blissful abandon, like, like… he searched his memory for when he had felt it before, and then with a sinking feeling Harry suddenly realised what that feeling reminded him of. It was like being under the Imperius Curse.

Suddenly Ginny's eyes flew to something behind Harry and the expression on her face fell. Uneasily, Harry twisted round and was confronted with the large figure of Ron looming over him. From the less-than-pleased expression on his face and his glowing red ears it was pretty clear that Hermione had just told him the news.

"Er," said Harry, and realised that he was still touching her hand. Snatching it away guiltily, he jumped up. "Ron, I – erm… I'm sorry."

Ron looked as though some internal conflict was going on in his head, and Harry wasn't sure if he was about to knock his block off. Just then Hermione appeared at Ron's side and nudged him. Hard.

Ron paused. "It's… fine," he said eventually through gritted teeth. "I don't expect you can help it. You're probably under a lot of – you know, strain. And stuff. From the spell." It sounded like he'd practised saying it.

"Come on," said Hermione to Harry. "We've got some research to do."

The Slytherin team were just leaving after a practice when Ginny arrived at the Quidditch pitch. After Harry had gone with Hermione to the library, she and Ron had been left in an awkward silence unusual for them. Not allowed to go and help look for a cure, Ginny had decided to come down to the pitch and have a look around. It was a long shot, to say the least, but it was something to occupy her, so at least she wasn't just sitting around feeling useless while Harry suffered.

"Come to spy, Weasel?" shouted Malfoy as they passed. "Doing Potter's dirty work for him?" Ginny ignored him and watched as the Slytherins headed back to the castle. As usual, they seemed to have been chosen for their bulk rather than for their skill, and even the one female player was built like a carthorse. Still, they would be a tough team to beat in the match next week, especially on the brand new brooms Malfoy's dad had bought for the whole team – coincidentally, shortly before Draco took over as captain. Scummy little ferret, she thought angrily. Buying his way onto the team and into the captaincy.

The male changing rooms were silent and damp and smelled like soap and muddy Quidditch boots. She noticed the Slytherins hadn't bothered to wipe or even rinse down the floor after them, and as a result it was covered in bits of mud and grass and a few cigarette butts. Feeling a little like an impostor, used as she was to the girls' changing rooms, Ginny looked in each shower cubicle in turn. They were all empty, except the far end one, which contained – Ginny grimaced – a filthy greyish towel that had probably once been white, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ginny tried to avoid stereotyping other houses, but she had to admit that Slytherins never seemed to clean up after themselves. Admittedly, this was probably more due to their incredible lack of consideration for others than to a lack of personal hygiene, but whoever had used this cubicle hadn't even bothered to get a new bar of soap from the store behind Hooch's office. "Filthy lot," she muttered to herself, and peered into the bins containing the Slytherins' muddy Quidditch robes. Steeling herself, Ginny reached into one bin and picked up the musty-smelling items to look underneath. If she was going to investigate, she was going to do it properly, damn it.

There was a loud 'crack' behind her, and Ginny jumped round guiltily. A grey house-elf with large green eyes had just appeared, carrying a mop and bucket. It looked askance at her. "Pinkie is here to wash the masters' robes, Miss," it said, firmly taking the pile from her hands.

"I wasn't doing anything – you know, odd," said Ginny as the house-elf put the robes down in a corner and began to wash the floor.

"Of course Mistress wasn't, if she says not," said the elf politely.

"I was just investigating something – you see, my friend's ill, and I'm trying to find out why."

Pinkie rinsed her mop in the bucket. "Yes, Mistress.

"Call me Ginny, please."

"Yes, Mistress Ginny." The house-elf got on with her job and seemed to be effectively ignoring her. Ginny climbed onto a bench and looked out of the high window. She could see right over the lake from here. Ginny concluded that it would be tricky to perform any kind of spell from the outside, as you'd have to balance on something pretty high. A sudden thought occurred to her. "Pinkie, do you come and clean the changing rooms after every practice?"

The house elf nodded. "Yes, that is one of Pinkie's duties."

"After yesterday's Gryffindor practice?"

"Yes, Pinkie is a good elf, she never forgets."

Ginny climbed down so she could talk to the elf better. "Do you remember seeing anything funny when you came?"

Pinkie put down her mop, and her little face crinkled up even more than it already was. "Funny, Miss?"

"Something suspicious, different from normal. Like someone who shouldn't have been there, or…" Ginny racked her brain "… an empty potion beaker, or something."

Pinkie shook her head. "Pinkie never comes until after everyone has left, Pinkie mustn't disturb. Today Pinkie has been a bad elf." A large fat tear rolled out of one of her huge round eyes and plopped onto the floor. Pinkie cleaned up the tiny puddle and began to bang herself on the head with the mop. "Bad elf. Bad elf. Ba-"

Ginny grabbed it. "Stop that! What nonsense, you didn't know I'd be here."

The elf turned large grateful eyes on Ginny. "Mistress is kind and forgiving. Pinkie is sorry she can't help. Pinkie wishes she'd seen something funny, so she could help Mistress and her friend."

"That's all right," said Ginny. "Thank you for your help."

Well, that had been a singularly pointless trip, she mused as she headed back across the grounds. She had succeeded in learning absolutely nothing new about the situation, plus she had been insulted by Malfoy and made a house-elf cry. Ginny wondered whether Harry and Hermione had had any better luck.

The library was practically empty, as the only people who went there to work on a Saturday morning were people like Hermione. She and Harry had been sitting, surrounded by piles of dusty books, for over an hour, and they were still no closer to finding any useful information on love spells. There was plenty about them, of course, but that only made it harder because most of it was useless waffle. Nowhere had they found anything that related to Harry's specific symptoms, nor any information on antidotes or counter-charms.

"This is useless!" said Harry frustratedly, slamming shut yet another book. A cloud of dust blew up from the pages, making Harry cough. Madam Pince, who was hovering nearby pretending to sort the Gnomish History shelf, glared frostily over.

"Don't be so defeatist," replied Hermione. "We might not have found a solution immediately, but we have found some clues."

He looked up. "What clues?"

Hermione sighed patiently. "Well firstly, all the sources agree that love charms are pretty ineffective and short-lived, and you'd undoubtedly have heard whoever it was when they performed the spell. Which leaves us with a potion, which narrows it down a lot."

"How?"

"Because most potions are foul-tasting, and for you not to have noticed you took it, this one would have to be undetectable."

Harry wished he'd listened more in Potions. "Is there such a thing?" 

Hermione shook her head. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. That sort of thing's beyond even Advanced Level NEWT. You'd have to ask Snape-" Harry groaned loudly "…or look it up in the Restricted Section," she finished in a mutter, because Madam Pince was still lurking nearby, watching them like a hawk for maltreatment of the books.

Harry thought hard. "What if it's not undetectable? What if whoever it was forced me to take the potion and then altered my memory? That would explain why I can't think of anything suspicious that happened."

"But if they forced you to take the potion, you'd have seen them first and fallen for them, not Ginny – unless they _meant_ you to fall for Ginny?"

Harry scratched his head. It was all too confusing. "But there might be an antidote in the Restricted Section?" he asked hopefully.

"Possibly. But don't get your hopes up too high, Harry. Even if there is, it might be too complicated for us to make." 

Harry privately disagreed. They'd concocted Polyjuice Potion when they were just second-years, and Hermione was – well, Hermione. If anyone could do it, she could. As if reading his thoughts, Hermione attempted to reconcile him to the idea of telling McGonagall everything if it came to it. "Once the professors know, it won't be a problem any more, they'll know what to do," she argued.

Harry grudgingly agreed. But at the same time he couldn't bear the thought of Snape's leering face when he found out and was asked to make an antidote. Harry knew Snape would never let him forget this. Being hopelessly, painfully in love with Ginny Weasley seemed a walk in the park in comparison.

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Questions? Comments? Think you know whodunit? Leave a review, and the people who came closest to the truth will get a special mention. ;)


	4. The Restricted Section

Chapter Four: The Restricted Section

A/N: To everyone who's been so patient, and sent me very sweet reminders to update, this one's for you! :) Anya, I feel your pain. I am slow. I am sorry. :)

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Harry was very quiet that evening at dinner as Ron and Hermione discussed their planned trip to the Restricted Section that night. They agreed in conspiratorial whispers that because there was no longer room for three under Harry's invisibility cloak, Harry and Hermione would go and Ron would stay behind.

"All right, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Hmm?" said Harry, dragging his attention back to his friends. "Yeah, sure." Ron shot Hermione a look as Harry returned to staring down the table at Ginny.

The youngest Weasley was eating bread and butter – not the sexiest thing in the world, you might think, but only if you'd never seen Ginny do it. She'd pick a piece up and after each bite she would delicately lick the tips of her fingers. Harry had noticed this before, before the potion. Then he had just thought it was cute. Now a little thing like that could make him long to run over and kiss her.

"Harry?"

"Wh-?" To Harry's surprise he realised that he'd begun to push his chair back to stand up. Attempting to get a grip on himself, he tried to concentrate on his dinner. 

Harry let Ron and Hermione's conversation drift over his head as he stared at his plate, contemplating what it would take to get rid of this – this feeling. Tonight's trip to the Restricted Section looked like his last chance before they were forced to go to McGonagall and ask for help. Please, please let us find an antidote, he prayed numbly.

It was Ginny who noticed Harry beginning to nod off at the table. He'd looked exhausted all evening, and as she watched his eyes began to struggle to stay open and his head drooped slightly. Ginny tried to fight back a grin as his nose approached his shepherd's pie.

What hell he was going through she couldn't begin to imagine. This afternoon, after she was sure Harry and Hermione would be gone, she'd gone to the library to find out everything she could about love spells. Without knowing it, she had come to exactly the same conclusions as Hermione about it probably being a potion. From what she had read, it was clear that being under the influence of a love potion could be a most unpleasant experience for all involved. At least Harry was a good, stable person. She'd read of some people losing all control under the strength of the love that was forced upon them, and harming themselves and others when the object of their affection did not return their feeling. No risk of that here, she thought wryly.

Harry yawned, and seeing it Ginny couldn't help yawning too. He glanced over, saw her and grinned. Ginny smiled back. She hadn't been sleeping too well herself recently. 

Just then Ron and Hermione, who had been engaged in a muttered conversation, nudged Harry, and all three began to whisper secretively. She'd known the three of them long enough to know that they were planning something, and she bet she knew what it was. They were going to sneak into the Restricted Section to find an antidote, she was sure of it. Her brother and Hermione seemed to be trying to convince Harry of something, because he looked annoyed and eventually resigned as the pair talked to him. The Hogwarts corridors were a dangerous place late at night, what with Filch and Mrs. Norris constantly roaming around. She hoped they weren't going to do anything stupid.

Harry couldn't sleep that night. Too tired to sneak to the Restricted Section indeed, he thought bitterly, turning over and bashing his pillow into shape, trying to get comfortable. He'd been in bed for what seemed like hours, tossing and turning, and not once had he felt tired. Ron and Hermione still weren't back. That could mean they'd found something to work with, but on the other hand it could mean they'd been caught by Filch and were being strung up in leg irons in the dungeons.

Harry looked at the glowing dial of his digital watch. It was nearly two in the morning, and Ron and Hermione had planned to leave at 12. It must have been later than that, though, because Ron had fallen asleep and Hermione had had to sneak up to the boys' dormitory to wake him in an angry whisper.

"Ron_. Ron!"_ she'd hissed. Ron had grunted and grumbled and eventually reached a sufficient state of consciousness to remember about the Restricted Section, and be suitably embarrassed that Hermione was crouching within the curtains of his four-poster bed. "Is Harry asleep?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he dropped right off," replied Ron, and there were rustling noises as he pulled his school robes on over his pyjamas. Harry begged to differ. Just because he'd stopped replying to Ron's continual muttered enquiries of 'Are you asleep yet?' it didn't mean he'd actually been asleep.

Frustrated, Harry rolled over again, tangling up the twisted sheets even more. He'd barely slept more than a few hours since the potion – or, what they assumed was a potion – had taken hold two days ago. How was it that during the day he was sleepy and disorientated and totally distracted, and during the night he was wide-awake and alert and restless? It wasn't fair. He didn't want to think about Ginny all the time – he wanted to be normal again and think about Quidditch and lessons and how much he hated Snape. At the moment the only feeling he could summon towards Snape was a sort of mild dislike, as though all his emotions were being channelled into loving Ginny.

_Ginny Weasley_. She was perfection. Harry was acutely aware that it was only the spell making him feel like this, but at the same time a part of him wondered why he'd never noticed how great she was before. Or maybe he had, but hadn't noticed he'd noticed. Maybe he'd liked her all along. Harry felt himself carried away by this train of thought. It was rather a pleasant one. It was a good feeling, knowing that he'd liked her even before someone cast a spell on him to make him. They'd worked together on the Quidditch team all this year, hadn't they? They'd talked, they'd got along, been friends. But now that just wasn't enough for Harry.

Ginny woke up very suddenly, as though some noise had awakened her She listened intently, but the only sound was the deep breathing of the sleepers in the other four beds. She fumbled for her wand on the bedside table and by its light checked her watch. Just after two.

With a sigh put out her wand and settled back down in bed, closing her eyes and snuggling under the warm covers. Now, what had she been dreaming about? Something good, she was sure of it. There had been – what was it? But no, it slipped her memory completely and the harder she tried to recapture it the more it evaded her and the less she felt like sleeping.

She lay there trying to get back to sleep for what seemed an interminable length of time, getting hotter and more uncomfortable by the minute. In vain she lay there and tried to think of relaxing things, but every time she closed her eyes she only began to think of Harry and what danger he could be in wandering around the school at night. Filch could be out there now, catching him. The invisibility cloak couldn't possible cover all three of them! Eventually, her heart thumping hard in her chest though she wasn't sure why, she got up, pulled on her dressing gown and crept noiselessly from the dormitory.

Ginny had never been in the common room alone at night before. It was almost completely dark, with just the dimmest silhouettes of the furniture visible through the gloom. Gingerly she felt her way around the edge of the room and opened the velvet curtain a crack. The moon was almost full, casting an eerie light across the Hogwarts grounds, and the Forbidden Forest lurked at the edge of her vision, a dark and sinister presence.

She turned back to the room and her heart leaped in horror as a beam of moonlight illuminated a dark shape sitting in one of the chairs round the fire. Her heart thumping in her chest, Ginny froze, barely breathing lest she make a sound. For long, almost interminable moments time hung by a thread as she stood like a statue listening to the frantic drumming of her heart. Then someone snored.

Waves of relief rushing through her, Ginny cautiously approached the sleeper. "Lumos," she whispered, and her wand illuminated with a soft glow the comical form of Harry Potter asleep in a chair, head lolling to one side, mouth open. She had to fight back a nervous giggle at the sight. So he wasn't roaming the corridors, he was napping in an armchair. Did that mean they were back? Probably not. More likely Ron and Hermione had gone without him when they'd noticed how tired he was. Ginny grinned, relieved, and gently picked up the heavy book that had fallen flat in his lap, 'Magical Theory, Volume XXIV' by B. B. Warffler. No wonder he'd dropped off.

Just then Harry grunted and muttered something that sounded like 'mimblewimble.' Trying to make as little noise as possible Ginny groped for a table on which to put down the book. As she found the table the tips of her fingers encountered something that slipped out of her reach, and too late Ginny realised that she'd accidentally knocked over someone's pile of Exploding Snap cards. There was a succession of sharp 'cracks' as the deck slipped over, and Harry jerked awake, muttering something about buttered toast and ice cream.

"Wha-?" Harry muttered, and looked woozily around him, wondering with a slight edge of panic where he was and how he'd got there.

"Ssshhh!" hissed Ginny, and Harry sprang awake as it all came flooding back at the unexpected sight of her. He'd settled down to wait for Ron and Hermione, completely unable to sleep and desperate to know what they'd found out. But he must have dropped to sleep, and now – 

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a hushed voice, wondering if it was wrong to be wondering what exactly Ginny was wearing under her dressing gown.

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," she whispered ruefully. "You don't think that noise will have woken anyone else up, do you?"

Harry was about to say he didn't think so when there was a slight noise coming from the direction of the portrait hole. "Er, I think so," he said hurriedly as the two of them jumped up in alarm.

"Quick," Ginny hissed and grabbed his hand, dragging him behind one of the heavy red drapes that covered the windows at night. They extinguished their wands and waited in breathless silence, and what with all the excitement it took Ginny a moment to realise just how close they were standing, and that she was still holding his hand. Unfortunately Harry was all too aware of Ginny's proximity, especially as he couldn't help but notice that her dressing gown had slipped open a little. He wouldn't have seen it in the pitch black, but his hand had happened to brush across her chest in the rush to get behind the curtain and he was certain that the fabric of her dressing gown didn't feel quite as warm and soft and smooth as-

Harry cut off the thought and shrank back a little, and at the same time Ginny dropped his hand like it was a hot coal. In the silence their breathing seemed deafening, and Ginny was sure Harry must be able to hear the wild thumping of her heart. She was acutely aware of his presence at her side – she couldn't think, she could barely breathe, his dark shape seemed to eclipse everything else, even the threat of discovery; and for a moment Ginny wondered if this was what a love potion must feel like.

There was another sound from the direction of the portrait hole, a sort of scratching and fumbling, and Ginny instinctively leaned closer to Harry for support. At the same time he turned towards her and the result was that his lips clumsily grazed her forehead, sending a shiver through both of them. Ginny froze and then, hardly knowing what she was doing, she leaned back her head to look at him. A ray of moonlight from the window illuminated them for a moment, and in that moment it looked as if he were about to kiss her. Ginny's whole body seemed to tremble.

Just then the portrait burst open and Ron's voice broke the silence. "Bloody passwords," he muttered.

"Shush, Ron, you'll wake somebody up!" came Hermione's whispered voice as the pair climbed through the portrait hole.

Harry gave a little gasp and stepped quickly backward.

There was a silence. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" Hermione asked quietly.

Several choice swear words entered Ginny's head. Of all the places she and Harry could have been when her brother and Hermione got back, why did it have to be half-concealed behind a curtain in the small hours of the morning?

Slowly, she and Harry emerged, guilt written all over their faces.

Harry didn't feel much like eating the next morning, even though the entire Gryffindor team had been up at the crack of dawn for an early Quidditch practice. The rest of the team were tucking into a cooked breakfast at the Gryffindor table, but for some reason Harry couldn't bring himself to make more than a half-hearted attempt to eat. Ron shot him a funny look across the table, but didn't say anything. For a moment last night Harry had been sure Ron was about to punch him, but instead he had gone all tight-lipped and quiet. Hermione had been very understanding about it all, of course, but Ron had been treating him funny all morning, giving him these odd looks and frowning as if he was deep in thought.

"Cheer up, you two," Hermione said as she sat down beside Ron. "We might have drawn a blank last night, but there's got to be something else we can do. If I ask Professor Snape-"

Harry recoiled in horror. "Snape?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was going to say if I ask Professor Snape, he might let me look at his private collection of potions books. I'll need them anyway if I want to get top marks on my extra Sansubstification Solutions essay. What do you think?"

"Sounds good," said Harry dully, pushing his plate away. "I might go back to the Common Room." And without waiting for a reply he got up and left the Great Hall.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried glance. "To be honest, Hermione," Ron began, looking guilty. "To be honest, I know you're really good with the potions and everything, bit if there was nothing in the Restricted Section, why would there be anything in Snape's private stuff? What would Snape be doing with a love potion?"

"I don't know, but it's better than nothing, surely?" Hermione replied, looking a little surprised.

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Hermione. I mean, you're a genius and everything but maybe we need to accept that we need the teachers' help for a change." Hermione looked astounded. "I mean," continued Ron, "Harry can't go on like this. It's not fair on him or Ginny. He can't even concentrate, you should have seen him in Quidditch this morning, and Ginny was almost as bad."

"Ron, if this is about the match with Slytherin…" began Hermione darkly.

"It's not!" insisted Ron. "Not totally. Think about his NEWT work. He's not eating, he's not sleeping, he's… looking at Ginny all the time…"

"So it's about him and Ginny? If it were anyone else but her he'd fallen for, would you be acting differently?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I dunno, Hermione, but Harry's not himself and you know it. I reckon we should go to McGonagall. Otherwise what if we can never get the spell off him?"

Hermione gave a weary sigh and rested her head in her hands. "I suppose you're right."

Harry hurried along the corridor, totally occupied thinking about Ginny. Why had he allowed himself to almost kiss her? Why had she let him? Part of him was insisting that he mustn't let it happen again while another, equally insistent part told him that he'd done nothing wrong, only react to his feelings, and what feelings they were! Being so close to Ginny in the dark had brought sensations to the surface he hadn't known were possible. Not taking her in his arms and kissing her had required a truly Herculean effort.

Just then Harry bumped into someone. He looked up.

"Harry!" It was Cho Chang, and he'd knocked a pile of books and papers from her arms.

"Sorry," he said distractedly, bending down to help her pick them up.

"You look like you're in a hurry to get somewhere," she remarked, hurriedly gathering up the books and pieces of parchment.

He looked vaguely at her. "What? Oh, not really."

She looked oddly at him. "Take care, alright Harry?"

He barely heard her. "Hmm."

When Harry got back to Gryffindor Tower all he felt like doing was sleeping. What with last night's escapade and the early rise this morning, he felt like he could sleep for a week. As he lay down on his bed, still wearing his Quidditch robes, Harry felt a hard lump in his pocket as he began to drift off. He rolled drowsily over and stuck a hand into his pocket, only to withdraw Ron's Quidditch flask. For a moment Harry drew a blank. How had that got there? 

Then he remembered Ron asking him to bring it back to the Common Room for him. Harry had found the flask where Ron had left it in the boys' changing rooms, and then – Harry's stomach flipped over as he realised the vital clue that he had completely forgotten about. He had drunk the pumpkin juice which Ron had not had time to drink himself.

Heart beating madly, Harry opened the flask. Inside were several drops of bright orange liquid. This could be the only way he had ingested the potion. This flask held the clue to Harry's enchantment.

Harry literally ran back to the dining room, but Hermione and Ron were gone. When he asked a couple of fifth years whether they'd seen them, he found that they had left a few minutes ago. "Sounded like they were arguing about something," said one. "Not that I was eavesdropping or anything," he added, quailing slightly at Harry's expression. "Only then Weasley got up and said he was going to see McGonagall."

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	5. What Not To Do In Potions

Chapter Five: What Not To Do In Potions

Harry ran full-tilt along the corridor towards McGonagall's office. That Ron, not Hermione, should be the one who wanted to tell McGonagall about him seemed odd, but that's the way it seemed. He skidded round a corner, ignoring a group of first year girls who were staring at him and muttering excitedly among themselves.

Just then a hand grabbed his elbow in a vice-like grip. Harry spun round and almost groaned out loud at the sight of Snape's leering face. "In a hurry, are we, Potter?" he asked, a hint of a cold smile on his face.

Harry caught his breath. "Er, no, Professor," he replied, trying to prise his arm free of Snape's bony fingers.

"Then, _Mr._ Potter," said Snape, tightening his grip on Harry's elbow. "I would suggest that you do not scurry about the corridors as if you were…" his eyes narrowed darkly "…up to something."

"Okay, Professor," said Harry, trying not to let his irritation show on his face. After a long suspicious stare at Harry, as if trying to find any excuse to give him a detention, Snape let go of Harry and strode off. 

As soon as the professor was out of sight, Harry broke into a run again. When he finally arrived outside McGonagall's office he was panting and out of breath, and just as he was wondering whether it was worth knocking, the door opened and McGonagall emerged.

"Can I help, you, Potter?"

"No! Er, that is… have you seen Ron and Hermione?"

McGonagall took out a key and locked the door of her office behind her. "No, I've not seen either today. Is there something the matter?" she asked, seeing Harry's distracted expression.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "No, thanks Professor, I'm fine."

Harry immediately hurried to find Ron and Hermione, and soon found them in the Gryffindor common room. "Were you going to tell McGonagall about me?" he burst out as he joined them.

They exchanged a glance. "Harry," said Hermione, "we'd never do anything without talking it over with you first. But we really think-"

Harry cut in impatiently. "We don't need to tell McGonagall anything, I know how I drank the potion. It was in Ron's pumpkin juice."

"What?"

"You asked me to bring your Chudley Cannons flask in for you, remember? And you hadn't touched your pumpkin juice, so I drank it. I forgot about it before, with everything that was going on, but that's got to be it!"

"So you're saying it was… meant for me?" asked Ron in a strangled voice.

"Yeah. How would whoever it was know _I_ was going to drink it?"

Hermione looked funny. "Who'd want to put a love spell on Ron?" she asked, sounding less than pleased.

Ron reddened. "Hey! I'll have you know there are lots of people who find me funny and devilishly good-looking."

"Who thinks Ron's devilish and funny looking?" asked Seamus Finnegan as he passed. Harry laughed. 

Hermione waited until Seamus had sat down with Dean and some fifth years on the other side of the room and then turned to Ron. "Like Mena Selari?" she said cuttingly.

Ron went redder still, and mumbled something incoherently. 

Harry took Ron's flask from his pocket. "There are a few drops left. I don't know much about it, but this has got to help us, right?"

"We could always go to Snape and ask for an antidote," muttered Ron, who still seemed a little off with him.

"Are you bloody KIDDING?" Harry burst out. 

Unusually, Hermione didn't even react to Harry's colourful language. Instead, she was staring at the flask, frowning in that special way she had, which Harry noted was usually followed by the sound of receding footsteps as she hotfooted it to the library. Harry and Ron exchanged a look. 'I'll be… right back,' Hermione said, already on her feet. 'I just need to look something up.'

Hermione didn't rush to the library; instead she hurried to the girls' dormitories and returned a minute later with a heavy volume. "Phantastic Philtres," read Ron from the spine. "Bit of bed-time reading?"

"Yes, actually," said Hermione distantly, missing Ron's wry tone as she leafed through the index. "Now, where was it? Ah, here we go!" She turned to a page near the end of the book. "Indicating Ink," she said briefly, engrossed in the text. 

"Er," said Ron intelligently, wondering if he was supposed to know what that was. Harry's thoughts were running along much the same lines.

Hermione looked up hopefully at the two of them. "Indicating Ink. You must remember, surely?" 

"Nope," said Ron cheerfully. Harry had a vague memory of the name but couldn't have elaborated further than that.

She sighed exasperatedly. "This is OWL level stuff! Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you two ever listened in Potions."

"No need to wonder, Hermione," said Ron. "You know we didn't."

"So what does it do, this Indicating Ink?" asked Harry quickly, eager to avoid a row between the pair of them.

"It's a potion that's used to work out the composition of a substance, I'm pretty sure we could use it to work out the ingredients that have been added to this pumpkin juice and their proportions. From there I should be able to work back to an antidote." Hermione paused, her eyes shining.

"You get _way_ too excited about work," said Ron.

"But are you sure you can do it?" pressed Harry urgently. "Isn't that sort of thing really hard?"

"It's exactly the sort of thing I'm doing at the moment for my extra potions work. Anyway, we need the Indicating Ink first, and that's pretty easy to make, only some of these ingredients could be tricky to get hold of."

"How tricky?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"They'd only be in Snape's private stores."

Harry's head hit the table. "Not again," he groaned.

Hermione ignored him. "We should do it tonight, so we can start the potion tomorrow. Once we've got all the stuff, it should only take a few days to make," she added anxiously.

"Hey, why don't we make Dobby steal the stuff for us?" suggested Ron. "He'd do anything for you, Harry."

Hermione glowered at him. "Ron Weasley, we're not getting a poor, downtrodden house elf to do our dirty work for us! I'll do it."

"No, I should do it," offered Harry. "You can't go getting caught on my behalf."

Hermione looked stern. "Harry, Snape hates you enough as it is, all he needs is for you to make one false move and he'll probably try and have you expelled."

"But-"

"Hermione's right, Harry, she's in less danger than you. She may look innocent, but she actually pretty sneaky." 

Hermione blushed.

"Remember what we said?" whispered Hermione anxiously that Monday morning as she and Harry waited outside the dungeon before their Potions lesson. 

"Sit tight and don't act suspicious, I know," said Harry. "But what exactly are you going to do?"

But before Hermione could answer Snape appeared and the class filed silently into the dungeon.

Stealing the ingredients they needed from the stores in Snape's office was going to be a difficult task. Snape kept it locked with unbreakable charms all the time he was not there, so the only time they could reasonably expect to be able to get in was during a lesson. After a long period of silent thought yesterday, Hermione had disappeared for most of the afternoon. Harry and Ron assumed it was something to do with stealing the ingredients from Snape, but she had so far refused to tell them what her plan was. His heart beating hard, Harry walked into the classroom behind Hermione, sure that Snape would take one look at him and just _know_. Perhaps it was just as well Hermione hadn't told him.

When they sat down, the benches were already set out with cauldrons full of a faintly steaming potion that looked – and smelled – very familiar. Looking into his, Harry realised that they were the Polyjuice potions that the class had been brewing in their Thursday lessons for a month. 

"Today," Snape began as soon as he reached the front of the classroom, "we will be finishing our study of the highly advanced Polyjuice potion. As you can see, your potions are now ready, and when you have decanted them I will mark you on both a sample of your solution and…" he paused for maximum effect, "…the result when you ingest it." Neville, whose determination to study Potions at NEWT level amounted to masochism, gulped audibly. "I have, of course, tested your potions for toxicity," the professor added dryly, "… and although I cannot vouch for their effectiveness, I can assure you that none of you will actually _die_ as a result."

"Comforting," Harry muttered under his breath.

"You will all need a partner, whose form you will attempt to duplicate," said Snape, and Harry looked doubtfully at Hermione. He couldn't remember if Polyjuice worked cross-gender, and wasn't sure he wanted to find out. "Don't look so worried, Potter, you'll all get same-sex partners," Snape said dryly. There was a wave of sniggering amongst the Slytherins. "In fact," he continued, "you will each be assigned a partner from your opposite house. And I advise you all that it is in your best interests to be quick…" a sickening little smile crossed Snape's face "…as anyone who has not transformed back by the end of the lesson will be staying behind into the lunch hour."

There was a subdued groan. As Snape reeled off the names, Harry knew without being told that he'd be assigned Draco Malfoy. He did gain some consolation, though, from the horrified expression on Malfoy's face when their names were read out and he realised that he would have to look like Harry Potter for a whole hour. Harry didn't exactly relish the possibility of walking around looking like Malfoy either. 

Harry moved his things to the desk next to Malfoy in silence. "Doesn't look like Polyjuice to me, Potter," hissed Malfoy, peering at the sludge-coloured mess in Harry's cauldron. Fighting back the urge to retort, 'how would you know?' Harry ignored him and carefully poured his almost-cool potion into a beaker.

"When you have decanted the solution, add _one hair_ from your partner's head to the beaker," came Snape's cold tones from the front. "Before you test it, fill and label your stoppered flask for me to mark. Then I will ask each of you in turn to drink your beaker."

Not looking forward to the entire class watching as he underwent the painful convulsions of the Polyjuice transformation, Harry unwillingly pulled a hair from his head and dropped it into Malfoy's potion, which went a reddish brown. At least Malfoy would have to do it too. Scowling, Malfoy reached up and plucked out one fine silvery hair, then dropped it into Harry's beaker. The liquid turned a dark grey-black colour, and Malfoy looked like he was about to say something, but then just stopped and glared at him.

There was a loud yelp from behind Harry. When he turned round he saw Hermione's partner, Millicent Bulstrode, grinning and clasping a handful of curly brown hair. Hermione was clutching her head, looking pained and more than a little annoyed.

"Miss Granger, are you ready to test your potion?"

Hermione stopped rubbing her head and picked up her beaker. "Yes, Professor."

"Then you and Miss Bulstrode can be the first. Kindly stand up, push in your stools and drink the entire contents of your beakers."

Only a slight frown betraying her nervousness, Hermione did as Snape had instructed, draining the entire beaker with a grimace. Millicent Bulstrode did the same and Harry could hardly bear to watch as the potion began to take effect. Hermione bent over, clutching her stomach, her face contorting though from pain or the potion Harry couldn't tell. By the time he opened his eyes the transformation was complete and there stood Hermione and Millicent in extremely ill fitting robes. Millicent – who was really Hermione – shot a relieved smile at Harry.

"Perfect transformations from you both," said Snape, sounding unsurprised. "Longbottom and Crawling next."

Few students achieved as good a result as Hermione, though Neville's potion was surprisingly effective. Eventually it came to Harry and Draco's turn, and Harry, ignoring his partner, downed the potion in one long go. Before many moments had passed he began to feel the familiar painful sensations gripping him, as if he was being turned inside out. He felt his knees buckle and the entire class craned their heads to see over the benches as he stumbled forward onto the floor. Eventually the feeling subsided and Harry climbed stiffly to his feet, coming face to face with – himself.

The expression in the green eyes was one of surprise and disgust. Slowly, Malfoy's hand went up to his forehead and felt the scar. He looked revolted. "Great," he hissed, and the voice was Harry's. 

"Well, I'm not exactly thrilled either," retorted Harry, slightly startled to find Malfoy's voice coming from his mouth.

Harry looked down at his hands – from their paleness and Malfoy's reaction he could only assume that his potion had worked. Snape made no comment; just looked hard at them both and wrote something in his mark book, his expression inscrutable.

The rest of the lesson was taken up with writing up the process, a painstaking task that was to be finished for homework. Towards the end of the period the first people to take the potion began to change quietly back to their usual appearance as their hour ran out. Harry calculated that from the end of the lesson he'd only have to look like Malfoy for another ten minutes.

There were only about five minutes to go until lunch when Harry became aware of a rustling sound coming from the equipment cupboard at the back of the dungeon. He looked at Hermione, who had returned to her usual appearance, but she was staring studiously at her parchment and didn't seem to have noticed anything. Gradually the rustling, coupled with a faint scratching, became more audible and the class began to look round at each other and back at the cupboard.

Becoming aware of the disturbance, Snape looked up sharply. "Settle down," he said shortly, striding to the back of the room. As Snape flung open the door of the cupboard, Harry caught sight of Hermione's expression – and it was one of studied blankness. Just then there was a great crescendo of rustling, squeaking and flapping as what seemed like a swarm of large insects burst out of the cupboard.

There was instant pandemonium. Harry could barely see what the things were, they were moving so fast, but they were everywhere… and they were angry. The little shapes buzzed furiously around the room like dozens of tiny, irate whirlwinds, upsetting everything in their path. People ducked under the benches as cauldrons were upset, bags were picked up and emptied, and piles of papers flew into the air.

"Don't cower like a group of scared first years, do something to help!" barked Snape over the hubbub, and cast a hex Harry had never heard before on two buzzing shapes, which dropped as if dead to the flagstones. They were instantly familiar to Harry. Cornish pixies!

Steeling himself, Harry drew his wand and, ignoring the pixies buzzing round his head and pulling on his hair, began to fire off spells into the swarm of blue. Before long most of the class had followed his example and the dozens of hexes flying through the air had only added to the commotion. The pixies had upset a box of chalk, and the air was thick with white dust. _It's only a matter of time before someone gets hit with a hex,_ Harry thought, hoping it would be Malfoy. Where was Malfoy, anyway? Harry turned to see if he was cowering under Snape's desk, just in time to see Hermione entering through the dungeon door. 

Unfortunately Snape was also turning - another second and he'd see Hermione! Without even stopping to think Harry pointed his wand at the back of Snape's head and cast a Stunning Hex.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all last chapter's kind reviewers, especially the wonderful JamieBell, because the only thing I like better than a good review is multiple good reviews! ;)


	6. Back to the Bathroom

Chapter Six: Back to the Bathroom

_A/N: Sorry it's been a while. Bad author! (smacks)_

* * *

Harry froze as the bolt of red light erupted from his wand and hit Snape right on the back of the head.

With a sickening 'thud', Snape fell to the floor of the dungeon. The entire class paused what they were doing and stared at his limp form, too stunned to move. Even the diminished swarm of pixies seemed to pause for a moment.

Harry ignored the pixy tugging on his robes and lowered his wand, horrified. He had knocked out a teacher. He had knocked out _Snape!_ He'd get expelled for this, for sure.

"Oh _dear_, Potter," said Malfoy, as he emerged smirking from under a bench at the back of the room. "I imagine you'll probably get expelled for that." In the commotion Harry had forgotten about the Polyjuice potion, and he was slightly startled to see Draco looking like him.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "Before I do the same to you." After Harry had Stunned Snape, she had hurried to hide the potions ingredients in her bag before moving to Harry's side. "Harry was only trying to stun a pixy. Unlike some people," she added pointedly.

The class had gathered around Snape, each apparently unwilling to be the one to revive him. "What do we do now?" asked Neville, who appeared to be fixated by the sight of Snape's unconscious form and was staring at it, his face rigid with terror.

Hermione raised her wand. "_Ennervate_," she encanted, and the class seemed to shrink back as Snape's eyes snapped open. Harry had never seen anyone go from a horizontal to vertical position so quickly.

Snape's expression was so icily cold that Harry was sure the temperature had dropped a few degrees. "Who," said Snape in a voice of the utmost forced control, "is responsible for this?" His jaw was clenched tight and Harry noticed with alarm that there was a nerve twitching in his cheek.

Most of the class looked at the ground or seemed to become terribly interested in the activity of the remaining pixies. Draco shot Harry a look of pure vindictiveness. Slowly, Harry raised his hand, still clutching his wand. He was looking at the floor but he could feel Snape's eyes boring into him.

"_Potter_."

Harry hadn't realised it was possible to imbue one word with so many shades of loathing. Full of dread, he looked up at the cold face of the professor.

"There was a pixie-" he began, trying to compose his face into a picture of honesty, wondering if Snape could tell if he was lying. Knowing what he now did about Snape's skills at Legilimency, he wondered if it was even worth trying.

"A _pixie_," said Snape shortly. "Mr Potter, you are no better at deception now than you have ever been.

"There _was_, Professor-" burst out Hermione hotly.

"I saw it too," added Neville staunchly, visibly quailing when Snape turned cold eyes on him.

"I _see_." Snape's voice positively dripped with bitter sarcasm. "…and did anyone _else_ see this pixie that Potter so clumsily managed to miss?"

There was a long silence, during which most of the students looked at the floor to avoid Snape's stare. When the pause had become almost unbearable Snape's voice broke the silence.

"I thought not." He strode to the front of the class and Vanished some papers. "Granger, Malfoy, as prefects I'm leaving you in charge of the class. If anyone leaves this dungeon before the lesson is over, the entire class will be in detention for a week."

Hermione nodded mutely and Draco gave a sickening smile as he answered, "Yes, Professor." Somehow Harry didn't think this boded well for him. Sure enough, Snape, still pale with anger, loomed in front of Harry's desk.

"Gather your things, Potter," he said. "I'm taking you to the Headmaster."

Snape didn't speak a word to Harry all the way to Dumbledore's office, and he strode along so quickly Harry practically had to jog to keep up with him.

When they reached the entrance Snape gave the password ('toffee apple') and told Harry grimly to wait. With a last dark look, he disappeared from sight up the spiral staircase.

Harry leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. He felt cold and slightly sick. No matter how he thought about it, there was no getting around the fact that he, Harry Potter, had actually _Stunned_ Snape. Had anyone even done that before? Surely not even the Weasley twins had gone that far in their pursuit of mischief.

The image of the tall black form dropping to the dungeon floor replayed itself over and over in Harry's mind, closely followed by the image of himself leaving Hogwarts forever, dragging his trunk behind him. Would he really have to leave? Would the Dursleys take him back? And, worst thought of all, how would he ever see Ginny again?

Harry was still trying to collect his fevered thoughts when the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's door swung inwards, and the wooden spiral staircase descended into the gap. Harry hesitated.

"Well go on, they haven't got all day," said a dry voice from behind him. Harry turned and saw Phineas Nigellus sauntering into an empty portrait.

"Do you know-" began Harry, but Nigellus interrupted him tersely.

"Hurry up, boy. Do you imagine the Headmaster of Hogwarts has nothing better to do than sit around and wait for someone like _you_?"

Harry shut his mouth and climbed aboard the spiral staircase, which immediately propelled him upwards towards Dumbledore's office.

When he reached the top the door to the office was open and he could see Dumbledore inside, sitting behind his desk. Harry entered nervously. The headmaster didn't exactly look angry, but you could never tell with Dumbledore.

"Sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore, shutting the door behind Harry with a wave of his hand.

Snape was standing in a corner, glaring at him. "Headmaster, might I ask-" he began as Harry sat down. Harry noticed Snape's still-livid countenance with a spurt of hope. If Harry had been expelled then surely Snape would be looking more cheerful?

"Professor Snape, you know my thoughts on this matter," interrupted Dumbledore with an air of finality. Then he turned to Harry. His eyes were grave, and looking into their placid depths Harry got the impression he already knew there was more to this. "Harry, I would like you to explain to me what happened in the dungeon just now."

"Well, someone… somehow some pixies got loose in the classroom, so we were helping to get rid of them," he began. "And I was trying to stun one when S- Professor Snape got in the way, and it hit him but I swear it wasn't meant to, Professor. It was an accident!"

"I see." Dumbledore sat back and for what seemed like an age he seemed to contemplate the delicate silver paperweight in front on him. Snape cleared his throat. "Well, Harry," said Dumbledore suddenly, "from what Professor Snape has told me there is no evidence to indicate that this was anything more than an unfortunate accident." Harry looked at Snape, who had gone a sort of puce colour. When he looked back at Dumbledore he met a penetrating stare. "I would advise you to be more careful in future, Harry. If you truly wish to study to be an Auror you will have to learn to control your curses far more carefully."

"Yes, Professor." Harry's heart beat wildly in relief. He didn't dare look at Snape.

"You may go now, Harry," continued the headmaster. "Just remember what I've said."

There was a conspicuous silence as Harry left the room and got onto the spiral staircase. He got the feeling Snape would have a lot to say as soon as he was out of earshot.

Harry was deep in thought as he hurried towards the Great Hall. Just wait until he told Ron what had happened! As he crossed the entrance hall Harry spotted Ginny amongst a group of people. Desperately he tried to walk past, but his legs seemed to have developed a life of their own, steering him helplessly towards her group. An involuntary smile sprang to his lips at the sight of her.

As Harry approached the group, mostly Gryffindors in Ginny's year, they fell oddly silent.

"Hi Ginny," he said, a trifle unsurely. Her face darkened, and Harry felt a twinge in his gut. "What?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Dean Thomas, stepping forward. Of course! In all the excitement he'd forgotten his hour wasn't quite up, and Snape had been so angry he'd let him go anyway.

"It's not Malfoy-" he began, but then he saw the protective hand Dean had placed on Ginny's arm when he stepped forward, and felt a stab of physical pain in his chest to rival the pain he felt inside. Suddenly it didn't seem worth explaining. Nothing seemed worth explaining, and all he wanted to do was escape. "Never mind," he mumbled and hurried, head down, into the Great Hall to find Hermione and Ron.

Ron was alone when Harry reached the Gryffindor table, and from the blank looks he received when he sat down realised to his dismay that Hermione and the rest of the Potions class must not have got there yet.

"Malfoy, what-?" Ron began, his face a picture of bemusement and disgust.

"It's me, Harry," Harry began impatiently. "We did Polyjuice in Potions, Hermione will tell you."

"Malfoy…" Ron started again, half getting to his feet, but to Harry's relief Hermione chose that moment to arrive behind him.

"Ron, don't hit Malfoy, it's Harry," she said breathlessly. "And he Stunned Snape, and I got the stuff, and a pixie stole one of the gnarl quills, but I don't think it'll matter. Harry, how did it go with Dumbledore?"

"Polyjuice… and what pixies? And how - hang on, you Stunned _Snape_?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, he was about to catch Hermione. But Dumbledore let me off."

Ron's expression at that moment could quite accurately have been described as one of undiluted delirium, and it was a full ten minutes before Hermione could even begin to persuade him to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"The problem is," Hermione said, frowning, "where do we brew it?"

"'Seasy," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of shepherd's pie. On seeing Hermione's disgusted expression he quickly swallowed. "That's easy," he repeated. "Where do we usually go to brew things we're not allowed?"

That evening they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing down the corridor as they rounded the corner towards her bathroom. Harry winced as a particularly piercing note made the pipes vibrate. "We need to find a new place for this kind of thing," Ron grumbled loudly over the sounds of weeping.

Myrtle's crying subsided to a soft whimper as she emerged from her cubicle and saw who had come in. "What are you doing here?" she whined between sniffles. "I thought you were too good to come and see me now.'"

Ron, to whom the comment seemed to be directed, coughed nervously. "Er, hello Myrtle. We've just come to make a potion."

Two large round tears welled up in the ghost's eyes. "I should have known. You hate me, of course you didn't come to say hello!" she wailed, and dived with a splash down the nearest toilet.

"Seriously," muttered Ron. "Anywhere will do. Anywhere at all."

Hermione had soon set up a cauldron and tripod over a slow-burning flame, and began to add the ingredients, pausing every so often to refer to the instructions she had copied out. "It should be done by Wednesday or Thursday," she said as she showed Ron how to chop the vervain roots properly.

"So you can cure him before the match with Slytherin on Saturday?" said Ron, looking happy, and Harry, who was perching on a wash-basin feeling useless, suddenly perked up.

Hermione frowned. "Honestly, is Quidditch all you think about? But yes, hopefully I'll be able to make an antidote by Saturday." She frowned. "Of course, I should really be working on my extra Transfiguration-" Catching a look from Ron, she stopped. "Obviously this is more important," she finished hurriedly.

Harry let his head sink into his hands as Ron and Hermione carried on with the potion. He had offered to help, but when his mind had wandered to Ginny and he'd almost sliced his finger instead of a gnarl quill, Hermione had banished him over here to watch. Only he wasn't watching, because he couldn't seem to stop thinking about Ginny and Dean laughing together, and Dean's hand on her arm, and how stupid he must have looked standing there and staring-

"Harry?" Ron's voice penetrated his tortured reverie.

"Hmmm?"

"I said are you still up for Quidditch practice first thing tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah, sure," he replied vaguely. Ginny would be there. She looked good in Quidditch robes, he remembered, athletic and windswept with her hair all coming out of its ponytail, all rosy-cheeked from the exercise. And she always had this glow about her after flying, the same as he felt, a warm happy feeling that even though he was exhausted he'd been doing what he loved best.

"Harry? Bloody hell, he's gone again. HARRY!"

"Sorry, what?"

Ron gave a very Hermione-ish eye roll. "Never mind. Go to bed mate, you look knackered."

"I'm fine," Harry attempted to say through a giant yawn.

"Seriously mate, as your captain, I'm telling you we need you awake tomorrow. Go to bed!"

Harry didn't need telling three times, and an hour later he was in bed. He'd earned some funny looks when he told the other Gryffindor 6th year boys he was retiring at nine o'clock, but at least he was left in peace to sleep. He was afraid tonight might be another case of lying awake for hours, but after a few minutes of indulging in blissful thoughts of Ginny, which brought a warm feeling to his stomach, he dropped into a deep slumber.

Harry was dreaming. Ginny was inside a giant soap bubble, and she kept floating away from him, yet always seemed just within reach of his grasping fingertips. He couldn't quite see her properly, she was partially obscured by the bubble's iridescence, but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and all he wanted to do was reach out to her. The bubble was suddenly floating up through the branches of the Whomping Willow, and Harry's efforts took on a new urgency as he began to climb the tree after her. Suddenly a horrible wailing sound filled Harry's head and he found himself slipping and sliding uncontrollably, until he hit something hard with a bump.

Disorientated, Harry looked around. He was on the common room floor, how did that happen? And where was that siren noise coming from? He rubbed his eyes confusedly. Somebody turned a light on, and there was the sound of giggling.

A number of people were peering round the door leading to the male dormitories on the other side of the – hang on. On the other side of the common room. Which meant that the steps he'd just slid down…

"HARRY," came Ron's enraged voice as his friend pushed through the gaggle of people. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TRYING TO GET INTO THE GIRLS DORMITORIES?"

* * *

_A/N: Oops, Harry. Now that was silly, wasn't it? ;)_


	7. Everyone's Clueless But Dean

Chapter Seven: Everyone's Clueless But Dean

_A/N: What's this? A new chapter? I'm sure you'll all be so relieved you'll instantly go and hit the 'review' button when you've read it…_

* * *

While Harry was having his disastrous Potions lesson on Monday morning, Ginny was getting into a spot of bother herself.

"Mists of enlightenment, my arse," she muttered darkly to Maud Greengrass, her Divination partner, and peered despondently into her scrying glass. Why had she chosen Divination, she asked herself for the millionth time that year. Because she'd thought it would be easy, that's why. Well, that would teach her. Bloody idiot.

"Anything, my dears?" asked Professor Trelawney, swooping down on them, beads and bangles jangling madly. She looked a bit like a demented dragonfly today, bedecked in iridescent greens and blues.

"Erm…" she attempted. "I think I've got a… a cauliflower-looking thing… and that swirl looks a bit duck-shaped… could it be something to do with… an unexpected harvest or windfall? Or tonight's dinner?" She looked up and smiled hopefully. The worst thing was, she actually wasn't trying to be funny. Stupid though she thought Divination was, she always at least attempted to decipher the signs she saw in front of her. Unfortunately, Ginny was, well… crap… and everybody knew it.

"Well tried, Ginny," said Trelawney in an encouraging – and slightly strained – voice. "Now, let me just take a look, no dear, leave your hands on the rim, that's it…" Ginny leaned back slightly as the professor leaned over and peered into the glass, her nose inches from its surface, her multiple strings of beads bashing against Ginny's knees. After a few seconds of examining the swirling mists, making interested 'hmmm' noises, Trelawney straightened up. "Well dear, you were… close… this time," she said delicately. "The cauliflower was a rose, the duck was a swan, and you missed images of chains and a skull. I'll leave you to look those up and then divine how they all form a picture of your immediate future." Dropping the uncharacteristically matter-of-fact manner that she seemed to save for Ginny alone, Trelawney floated off to help Maud.

Ginny was looking through her Divination textbook when she was interrupted by an excited squeal from across the classroom. "Oh no, Professor! Professor, Katie says I've got a dead duck in my scrying glass! Is that bad?" It was Mena Selari, gazing with some distress at the swirling mists in her glass. She watched anxiously as Trelawney peered in. "Only I've got an important Quidditch match this week and a dead duck, I don't know, it seems like a pretty bad omen to me…"

"Calm yourself," soothed Trelawney, straightening serenely. "The Fates are clearly smiling on you!" She waved her bejewelled hands animatedly. "Your scrying glass is showing you a turtle dove! A positive change of fortune in love is just around the corner for you, my dear. That special someone is at last within your reach!"

Mena went pink and as soon as Trelawney had moved away she and her partner burst into excited whispers and giggles.

"Does she still like Ron?" asked Maud in a whisper.

Ginny glanced at Mena, who was still blushing. "Yeah, I reckon so. She asked to see my photo album the other day. I think she just wanted to look at him." She laughed. "Beats me why!"

With only a few minutes left till lunch, Ginny quickly flipped to 'Skull' in her book. Not that she believed in any of that claptrap of course, but still, it was a little unsettling to have a skull floating around in your scrying glass.

'_Skull or Death's Head,'_ the entry read. _'Primary meanings: mortality, death or place of burial; other possible meanings dependent on context: metaphorical death or end, rebirth, hatred, martyrdom, poison or potion, luck in adversity.'_

Ginny tried to restrain a snort. In short, she scoffed inwardly as she packed her books away, it could mean just about anything you wanted it to.

"Ginny!" Dean's voice interrupted Ginny's thoughts as the Gryffindors made their way to lunch. He appeared beside her, panting slightly.

"Dean," she said wryly. "Been running?"

"What, me? Yeah, alright, you got me, I'm that eager to get to lunch. Care to join me for a jog?" He made as if to run off again and Ginny stopped him, laughing. "Oh alright," he said. "You just see through everything, don't you? Okay, I might have seen you from the other end of the Charms corridor and got a bit carried away catching you up…"

"Honestly," she tutted jokingly. "I hope you didn't knock anybody down."

"Oh, couple of first years, you know, but they're bendy, they'll heal. Now, have you given any thought to my suggestion of the other week?" Ginny's laugh faded slightly at this last remark.

"What suggestion was that?" she asked half-heartedly.

"Oh, you know, the one where I said how about you and I go out, you know, on a date, like people do. Or so I hear."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Dean, I already told you I'm not going to go out with you! You're a really good friend, and-"

"Oh go on, rubbish reason. I'll need a better excuse than that!"

She snorted. "How about Ron would go nuts and God knows what-"

Ginny halted her sentence in mid-air in surprise as Draco Malfoy appeared in front of her. But that wasn't the thing that surprised her. The thing that made her stop speaking so suddenly, the thing that unnerved her was his expression, a weird sort of smile she thought she recognised from somewhere.

"Hi, Ginny," said Malfoy in a meek voice that made her wonder to herself what in the name of Merlin's mum was going on. He looked… confused.

Dean stepped forward angrily. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Seeing the look on Malfoy's face, Ginny wanted to tell Dean to stop, but she wasn't sure how. There was something really weird going on here. Looking crushed, Malfoy muttered something, then turned on his heel and rushed into the Great Hall.

"What's that little toe rag playing at?" asked Mena, echoing everyone's thoughts.

"And why was he staring at you like that?" muttered Dean to Ginny, echoing her own.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before news of the Polyjuice test and Harry's exploits in Potions filtered down the length of the Gryffindor table to the group of chatting fifth years. "Stunned him, just like that!" hissed an excited fourth year. "Out cold!"

"… and then he kicked him in the ribs and said, 'if you ever give me another 'D' in Potions, I'll GET YOU, Professor…'" Ginny overheard from a group of second years.

"I'd like to give Snape a good kick in the ribs…"

Ginny craned her neck to see to where Harry was sitting. "Something you're not telling us?" Dean whispered in her ear, having appeared suddenly behind her

She started, almost choking on a mouthful of shepherd's pie. "Sorry?"

He looked strangely at her. "Oh, nothing. Just those three are being all secretive again, thought you might… know something, that's all."

Ginny regained her composure. "Nothing. No, I don't know anything." She arranged her features into a picture of innocence. It was something she was practised at.

She didn't know anything. Well, it was practically true at the moment, wasn't it?

Ginny spent that evening up to her elbows in homework. As well as the stupid Divination prediction, for which she had made up some rubbish about Valentine's Day, she had two rolls of parchment from Snape and a chapter's Charms reading, and it was with relief that she finally collapsed into bed that night.

Ginny didn't sleep for long. She had a strange dream, in which she was floating on a swan's back, and Dean was on the ground, trying to stretch up to her. Suddenly Harry was by her side, keeping abreast of her on his Firebolt. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a dreadful screeching noise. Woozily Ginny woke up, and realised she hadn't dreamed the noise at all. What _was_ that?

"Sounds like a boy trying to get in," snickered Katie. "I'm going to see!"

Pulling on her dressing gown, Ginny joined her dorm-mates and hurried down towards the common room. As she approached the gaggle of giggling girls at the top of the staircase, Ginny's stomach sank to hear her brother shouting something angrily. This could only be bad.

Ginny edged through the crowd, and her fears were confirmed as she saw her brother standing over Harry, who was sitting at the bottom of the girls' staircase looking utterly confused.

"Oh- I, er…" struggled Harry. He was in his pajamas and he looked like he'd just got out of bed. Or just woken up, Ginny realised in a flash, the situation clicking rapidly into place.

Ron's ears were going a violent shade of scarlet, and his face was so red Ginny was worried he might burst a blood vessel in his head. He looked like he was about to shout something else, and Ginny dreaded to think what it might be. She quickly stepped forward.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" she cut in shrilly. Everyone looked at her, and Ginny tried to keep her composure. Thoughts racing, Ginny said the first thing that sprang into her mind. "Harry, I completely forgot you needed that book to do your Potions tonight!" Ginny prayed she wouldn't actually be called upon to fetch a book, because she didn't think she actually had anything other than her set fifth year texts.

"Po- oh yeah. Yeah, the book." Harry smiled sheepishly around and stood up. "Yeah, I, er, forgot about the slide thing." He forced a nervous laugh, and Ginny did the same. Ron remained stony-faced. Harry shot Ginny a grateful look that warmed her insides.

Just then Hermione appeared behind her, hurriedly tying her dressing gown. "Right, back to bed everyone, there's nothing to see here. Come on, before Professor McGonagall comes to see what all this fuss is about," she tutted, shooing the girls back to their respective dormitories.

"Right," said Ron vaguely, catching on. "Yeah, stop gawping and back to bed," he ordered the boys gruffly, and unwillingly the onlookers began to file back to their dorms. As he was about to go, Dean Thomas turned and gave Ginny a concentrated look.

"Are you going to get Harry his book, Ginny?" he asked quietly.

She felt her face go pink. "Yes. I'll just get it." Ignoring the looks from the people she passed, Ginny hurried up to her dormitory at the very top of Gryffindor tower.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were busy clearing the common room as quickly and quietly as they could.

"Is there anyone who isn't going to know about this in the morning?" hissed Ron as he and Hermione practically forced the last curious third year into his dormitory.

"Ssshhh, not here Ron," said Hermione, grabbing Ron's arm and pulling him into the boys' bathroom.

Ron's ears went pink as Hermione locked the door behind them, but the distraction soon passed.

"Did you see that?" he seethed. "Harry's my mate but I'm not having him going round trying to get into my sister's dormitory!"

Hermione sighed. "I know, Ron, and I agree that it looked bad. But can't you see he didn't mean to?"

"Mean to or not, he still did it," rejoined Ron darkly. "If we went to Dumbledore…"

"Since when have _you_ ever wanted to go to Dumbledore?" she said exasperatedly.

"SINCE HARRY STARTED TRYING TO GET INTO MY SISTER'S-" Ron yelled, but stopped short when he caught sight of Hermione's expression. "Anyway, since when have you _not_ wanted to go to Dumbledore?" he asked suspiciously.

"I think in this case it would be best just to wait and see if we can solve this ourselves with minimum fuss," she said patiently. "With any luck I'll be able to backwards-brew an antidote as soon as we know what was in that flask." Ron looked unconvinced. "Look, a mysterious broomstick from a convicted murderer is one thing-"

"Sirius wasn't a murderer…"

"I know, Ron, shut up! A possibly cursed broomstick is one thing, but if we turn Harry in for having a love spell put on him and Snape has to make an antidote… _Snape_, of all people! Harry would never forgive us."

Ginny flung open her trunk. Books, books… hurriedly she grabbed her dog-eared copy of 'Potions: Level 5'. Hiding the title from the few stragglers she passed, she hurried back down the flights of stairs.

But when Ginny reached the final flight and looked out over the common room, it was empty and the torches were flickering low. "Hermione?" she whispered. "Ron?" She was about to turn to go when a voice from below startled her.

"Ginny?"

"Harry?" She leaned over the banister and saw him below the overhang of the balcony, looking up at her. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" she whispered.

"Arguing in the bathroom," he replied. "I just wanted to say thank you. You were really amazing." Ginny was forced to look away, because the way he was looking at her was doing funny things to her stomach. "I don't exactly know what happened," he continued. "I reckon I sleep-walked, and ended up, well – there."

Well done Harry, Ginny thought. She grinned down at him. It wasn't funny, of course, but – "Didn't Ron look like he was going to explode?"

"I didn't really notice," said Harry quietly. "I don't notice a lot else when you're there." Ginny bit her lip, but her heart stretched out towards him.

As if by instinct, he stretched up a hand towards her. "Could you – could you come down? Just for a second?"

"Harry, I don't think-"

"Please?" Ginny couldn't say no to those eyes and their steadfast gaze. Slowly she descended, her eyes uneasily fixed on his. They stood awkwardly, a foot apart. Or it should feel awkward, Ginny corrected, but somehow didn't. Somehow it just felt – nice. Sort of companionable.

Harry's eyes never left her face. In the flickering half-light, with a half-smile flickering on his face, he looked somehow… uplifted. Catching her breath, Ginny held out the book. "For Dean's benefit," she explained.

He reached out to take it, and held on, his warm hand closing over hers. "Thank you." Something flickered in his eyes. "You and Dean…" he trailed off.

"Are just friends," she said, more firmly than she'd intended. He smiled, and Ginny realised he'd caught her other hand, so gently she'd barely noticed.

"I can't believe you're so beautiful," he muttered. Listening to the boy she'd liked for as long as she'd liked boys tell her she was beautiful, Ginny almost melted.

Almost.

Mentally shaking herself, she softly disentangled her hands from his grip. "'Night Harry," she said matter-of-factly. Leaving him standing there, Ginny climbed the staircase that led to bed.

Harry felt like something was being ripped painfully off him. "I love you," he blurted after her, without quite meaning to.

Slowly, Ginny turned and looked back down at him. "No, you don't," she said gently, and before he could reply she had vanished where he couldn't follow.

* * *

_A/N: Is there something you want to see in this story? Some Malfoy villainy? A touch of peril? More R/H? A bit of Snape? Or do you just want me to get on with it and put Harry in a towel? Remember what we said about that 'review' button..._


	8. Quidditch Practice

**Chapter Eight: Quidditch Practice**

Harry hadn't slept again. A few weeks ago he would have found it hard to believe that he could possibly be so exhausted and yet spend the whole night rolling and tossing and agonising and getting tangled up in his sheets over any girl, let alone Ginny Weasley.

But now humiliation coursed through him and his blood burned like angry pepper imps were running around his insides. Even the thought of the common room, and all those people, and worst of all Ginny's back as she left him there were enough to make his face heat up. What had people thought? And never mind people, what must Ginny think of him, trying to get into her dormitory in the middle of the night? God, how would he ever look her in the face again?

He squeezed his eyes tight shut – as he seemed to be doing a lot recently – in some attempt to block out the humiliation. Unfortunately he happened to be on his way down to an early breakfast at the time and walking down a corridor is neither the time nor the place to be shutting one's eyes.

He bumped into someone, who gasped. "Oh, sorry Harry," said Cho. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Oh, that's fine, me neither."

She looked funnily at him. "What are you doing up so early?" He explained about the Quidditch. "Of course, you've got Slytherin next week, I should have known."

To fill the awkward pause that followed, during which Cho showed no signs of moving, Harry asked, "What about you?"

"Me? Oh… I've just been to the Owlery."

The Owlery? "But isn't it quicker…"

"I took a detour," she said shortly. "Anyway, I must go." Cho gave him a tight smile turned to go.

"'K," said Harry, carrying on towards the Great Hall. He was sure he could feel her eyes on his back. It was funny, even Cho didn't faze him now. He didn't even feel awkward and embarrassed. In fact, it seemed that all of his emotions not relating to Ginny had been somehow numbed. It was like she was taking over his brain, and anything that didn't involve her was just grey and humdrum.

He found the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team already at the table. He had pretended to be asleep when Ron got to bed last night, and when he woke up this morning Ron was already gone. He approached the table nervously, worried about his friend's reaction.

"Morning," Ron grunted.

"Morning," Harry replied, glad that at least he merited a greeting. He forced himself to avoid looking at Ginny as he sat down, though he was acutely aware of her presence without even having to glance her way. His whole body buzzed just to know she was there, he couldn't help it.

"Hey Harry," piped up Colin Juggins, the new fourth year Chaser, almost before Harry had sat down. "I heard you tried to sneak into the g- ow!" He was abruptly silenced as Ron hit him round the head with the breadbasket.

"So today we're going to play a sort of mock match," said Ron loudly over Colin's indignant protestations. "Keeper and one Beater trying to stop the Chasers scoring, with the other Beater defending them. We'll have the Quaffle, one Bludger and of course the Snitch which Harry will be concentrating on catching."

Was Harry imagining it or had Ron accentuated the word 'concentrating' a fraction as he shot him a sideways glance? He obviously thought Harry couldn't do it.

"Sounds good," said Ginny's voice brightly. Harry concentrated very hard on his toast and marmalade. Behind the cheeriness in her voice he could detect something else, lacings of strain and confusion. He risked a glance round the table. No one else seemed to have noticed it. Harry frowned.

The weather outside was bright and breezy, perfect for Quidditch. As the team mounted their brooms, Harry was even more determined not to look at Ginny. After his abysmal performance in Sunday's practice, he knew she was too much of a distraction to his game. On Sunday he had been too busy worrying about where she was, his brain acutely conscious of her presence when she was near and her absence when she was far, to give more than passing thought to the Snitch. Ron had eventually stopped and begun shouting at him when the Snitch flew round Harry's head not once, but twice. Harry had been too busy panicking about Ginny's near miss with a Bludger to notice it.

Well today, Harry vowed as they took off, there would be none of that. If Ginny saw a Bludger, she could take care of herself. His throat tightened at the thought. Maybe he could just keep a covert eye on her, just to check…

NO. He threw off the urge to gaze longingly over at the windswept red and gold form that he instinctively knew was currently hovering below and a little left of him. No, he would concentrate on the Snitch.

As the fake game commenced, Harry hovered above the play, scanning the pitch for a glimpse of shining gold. Snitch, Snitch, Snitch, he reminded himself firmly as a flash of bright red hair caught his attention and for a moment he could not quite stop himself watching, acutely feeling her disappointment as her shot at goal rebounded off the left hoop.

Right, Snitch. He diligently scanned the pitch for it, forcing himself with considerable effort not to let his gaze linger for too long on the slight redheaded figure flying beneath him. Unfortunately, he could remove her from his sight, but not from his mind. While he felt the usual exhilaration of flying begin to kick in, there was also something else, the uncomfortable twisting, gnawing feeling in his gut that he got when he couldn't be near Ginny.

After about half an hour of play he eventually saw the Snitch, hovering near the right goal hoop. Pushing the feeling away, adrenaline filling his veins, he dived towards it, weaving through the other players, reaching, fingers outstretched… until with quiet satisfaction Harry closed his fingers over the tiny fluttering ball.

"Well done Harry," shouted Ron. "Right, touch down everybody, I think we've done enough for today."

Harry did not wonder for long at Ron's decision to cut the session short. Lurking at the edge of the Quidditch stands was a hulking figure in Slytherin uniform, trying unsuccessfully to conceal herself behind a pole. It was Millicent Bulstrode, clearly sent to spy on the Gryffindor practice. As the team touched down, she quickly disappeared.

Ron could clearly be heard muttering under his breath about 'those bloody Slytherins' all the way back to the changing room, where he quickly showered, speaking very little to his team mates. As soon as he'd finished his shower he disappeared from the room.

"What's his problem?" asked Harry.

"Probably gone to speak to the girls," said Andrew Kirke. "Didn't you see the way Ginny was playing?"

"No," said Harry steadily, sure his face must be betraying the turmoil of emotions within. "How was she playing?"

"Not exactly up to her usual standard," filled in Jack Sloper. "Didn't score one goal, dropped the Quaffle twice..."

As soon as Harry finished his shower he went to look for Ron. He found him outside the girls' changing rooms, having what looked like a blazing row with Ginny through the door. Harry hung back, unwilling to interrupt.

"…but then you dropped it AGAIN," Ron was fuming, "and your passing was all over the place…"

"I KNOW, RON!" came Ginny's furious voice from within. Harry could hear tears behind the anger. Ron obviously couldn't, because he continued to berate her for her lacklustre performance. It occurred to Harry that perhaps the potion was making him extra sensitive to Ginny's feelings. "I told you, I don't know what was wrong with me!" she shouted, bursting out of the changing room. "I was just distracted!"

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he almost choked. Ginny was… that is… she was wearing… Harry realised simultaneously that his mouth was hanging open and he had forgotten to breathe. Blood rushed to his head and other important places and he quickly stumbled back to the boys' changing room. Several cold showers later, he felt ready to emerge.

The sight of Ginny emerging, wet and towel-clad and blazing with anger was enough to make any wizard blush. But to Harry the sight of Ginny emerging, wet and towel-clad and blazing with anger, was enough to cause his body to heat up to almost superhuman temperatures and his mind to perform gymnastics of the imagination he'd never dreamed were possible. It wasn't as though it had even been a particularly small towel, he reflected. But it had been small enough. And her hair had been slick and wet and dripping little rivulets of water over her shoulders and into the white fluffiness of the towel, and her eyes had been all flaming…

Harry decided another cold shower would be a good idea.

_Snape in a tutu,_ he reminded himself as he entered the Great Hall at lunch and immediately glimpsed Ginny's bright head at the Gryffindor table. _Snape in a tutu, Snape in a tutu, Snape in a_ – "Argh!"

Harry had just bumped into Snape. "Watch where you're going, Potter," the professor snapped.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, and made as if to go. But then he felt Snape's bony grip descend on his shoulder.

"One moment, Potter." Snape drew something from his robes and brandished it under Harry's nose, fixing him with a thin smile. "A gnarl quill, as I'm sure even you are aware. From my private stores, along with several other ingredients" Harry strove to keep his expression blank. "I keep a very strict inventory, Potter," Snape continued, looking like he was trying to bore a hole in Harry's head with his eyes. Harry wouldn't put it past him. He tried to look innocent.

"I found this in my classroom yesterday, immediately after a certain… eventful lesson. Have you any idea what it could have been doing there?"

When Harry made no reply, Snape narrowed his eyes and put the quill away. "Do not for one instant believe that this pretence of ignorance has fooled me, Potter," he said coolly. "You and your friends are up to something, and make no mistake, I _will_ find out what it is." With a final despising glance Snape turned and strode out of the hall.

"What was all that about?" asked Ron as Harry sat down, relieved that Ron and Hermione had sat the other end of the table from Ginny and her friends. Maybe they'd done it on purpose. Making a supreme effort not to peer down the table for the glimpse of Ginny's sweet smiling face that would instantly lift his spirits, Harry told the pair about Snape and the gnarl quill.

"He'sh got it in frus," said Ron through a mouthful of sandwich.

Hermione just frowned. "It's a good thing the Indicating Ink will be ready on Thursday," she said. "But we'd better be extra careful now that Snape's watching us."

Ron made a noise that probably indicated agreement, though it could have been approval of his potted-meat sandwich.

Harry picked at his lunch half-heartedly. He felt like he should be hungry, since he'd played Quidditch that morning and barely eaten all day. But the food tasted dry and unappetising in his mouth, and he couldn't force down more than a few bites. He wanted to look over at Ginny. He REALLY wanted to look over at Ginny. He knew instinctively exactly where she was sitting in relation to him, and every so often he sensed her eyes on him and swallowed hard, flushing. But he couldn't look over. He'd promised himself. He'd only do something to embarrass her again. His heart began to palpitate madly; she was looking his way again. He stared very hard at his half-eaten sandwich and waited for her to stop, so he could move again.

"Harry? Harry!"

He realised Hermione was waving her hand in front of his face. How long had she been doing that? He glanced up. "Hmm?"

"I was asking you how you are. Aren't you hungry?"

He looked at his uneaten lunch. "Oh… no, not really."

"And what about… you know?" she probed. "How are your feelings about…" she glanced at Ron, who was attempting not to look too interested "…you know who?"

Harry forced a smile. "I think it's getting better," he said. "You just have to… fight it. I'm feeling more normal now," he repeated. He wondered just who he was trying to convince.

Hermione looked relieved. "Just keep trying, won't you?" she said earnestly. "It's very important that you don't let this affect your schoolwork."

Ron snorted.

That evening, Ron and Hermione went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to work on the Indicating Ink. Harry had expressed an interest in coming, despite the amount of homework he had that night, but Hermione had refused.

"Ron and I will go, you should stay here and focus on your work," she'd said firmly. "You haven't even started that Charms essay for tomorrow!"

"Or you could always ditch the essay and go and do some Quidditch practice- ow!" Hermione nudged Ron hard in the ribs.

Harry had grudgingly agreed to stay. He wasn't going to tell Hermione that his enthusiasm to go was mainly to do with the fact that Ginny was currently the centre of a merry crowd in the corner, charming a caricature of Mena Selari which Dean had drawn to stick its tongue out and blow a raspberry. And so Ron and Hermione went, leaving Harry attempting to focus.

Right, he thought, and carefully began to write the title of the essay. '_Using detailed examples from your practical work, explain to what extent the 'Defendeus' charm differs from the 'Protegus' charm in theory, application and…'_

Ginny was now sitting absolutely still while Dean's pencil flew over the parchment, sketching a likeness of her. She hadn't looked Harry's way all evening; he could feel it acutely when she did. She laughed at something Dean said, and then attempted to put on a straight face for picture, failing miserably as first one corner of her mouth twitched, then another, until her ringing laughter filled Harry's ears.

Dragging his attention back to the parchment, Harry had to blink several times before he could concentrate. Detailed examples… Ginny's voice reached his ears, followed by some more laughter. Protegus…

Harry struggled through most of the required length, though the parchment was so full of crossings out it was probably less, he reflected.

Just then Ginny got up and Harry followed her in the corner of his eye as she went up the stair to the girls' dormitories.

A voice interrupted Harry's tortured reminiscences of the last time he'd seen those stairs. "Harry?" He looked up. Dean was passing by his table, grinning. "Harry, did you know your book's upside-down?"

After that Harry decided to finish the essay in the dormitory, knowing that with Ginny in the room it would never get done.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were just finishing off the adjustments to the potion that Hermione had deemed necessary. Ron was busy chopping yak hair when Hermione turned to him.

"It's funny, isn't it," she said in an innocent voice, "how you encouraged Harry to go and fly his Firebolt earlier, knowing full well Ginny was going out to practise."

Ron's ears went red. "I did not _know full well…_" he spluttered.

"You told her to, Ron!"

He mumbled something unintelligible and threw the yak hair into the potion. Hermione continued in the same speculative tone. "And it's funny, how you seem all funny about Harry being in love with Ginny but you don't actually seem that keen to do anything about it…"

"Well, you don't either," retorted Ron defensively. "And you always want to go to McGonagall. You wanted to go to McGonagall when that fourth year kid said he was going to put a Crumblylegs Curse on us!"

Hermione looked nettled. "If Harry looked like being in any danger to himself or Ginny…"

"But he doesn't, does he? So you want to wait a few days and see if you can come up with an antidote yourself… it's almost like you're using Harry to test your Potions skills." He gave her a shrewd look.

"I would never do that!" she exclaimed angrily. "I just thought maybe if we gave Harry a chance-" but then she tailed off and suddenly became very fascinated in the potion she was stirring.

"A-HA!" Ron brandished a large dried slug at her triumphantly. "You WANT them to get together, don't you?"

Hermione turned rather pink, and told herself it was the steam from the potion. "Alright," she said matter-of-factly. "Maybe I do. But if I thought for a moment that Harry was in any danger, you know I'd tell Professor McGonagall straight away!"

Ron's expression was hard to read. This was so unusual in Ron that Hermione stopped stirring the potion to give him a sharp look. "You think the same, don't you?" she said bluntly.

Ron paused. "Alright. What if I did?" He looked defensive again.

"Then there would be nothing wrong with that," she said slowly. "I mean, it's understandable that you would want Ginny to be with someone who's right for her…"

"And he IS!" burst out Ron. "I mean, it's not like I want them to go off and get married or anything, but if Ginny's going to go out with anybody, I'd want it to be someone like Harry, not some poncy-arsed git like Michael Corner!

"And the worst thing was that Harry never bloody noticed she was there, but now he's got this spell on him, now he's paid her some attention, surely now he'll notice her. Right?"

"Ron," said Hermione gently, laying a hand on his arm. He froze, and they both moved away rather quickly. "Ron, you know when the potion's effect is reversed Harry won't feel this way about Ginny any more."

"Yeah, but he'll have noticed her, won't he? Look, I'm not saying it's a good thing some psycho tried to put a love-spell on me and got Harry, but it's an opportunity, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded pensively. "An opportunity…"


	9. The End of the Beginning

Chapter Nine: The End of the Beginning

_A/N: With HBP out this 6th year story has obviously become a little AU… but not too AU, I hope. ;)_

* * *

High above the Quidditch stadium, Ginny brought her old Cleansweep round in a wide arc around the goal hoops. The thing about practising Quidditch on your own, she reflected wryly, was that you, erm, couldn't. Still, Ron had told her to come out and get some practice in and considering her awful performance this morning, who could blame him? 

It was just Harry. Harry! She'd thought her days of agonising over that particular boy were long gone, when it turned out they were only just getting started. The broomstick jerked at Ginny's sudden frustrated movement. One minute he was looking all doe-eyed at her across the common room and telling her he loved her as she leaned over a balcony in her night things, and the next he was ignoring her as she sat three feet straight in front of him. He'd sat opposite her for the whole of dinner tonight and not even looked at her once.

Ginny threw the Quaffle she'd charmed to help her and fumbled the catch as it came flying back. Great! She couldn't even bloody play Quidditch now! She hurled the ball away from her with such force that when it flew back at her she had to make an ungainly roll to prevent it from knocking her off her broom. As it was she almost fell off anyway as a result of the unexpected airborne gymnastics.

She was just struggling to regain her balance and thanking her luck that at least no one was around to see her when she felt something steady her broomstick. Twisting around, Ginny almost lost her balance again when she saw Harry hovering alongside her on the Firebolt, one steady hand on her tail. She could quite easily have thrown herself off right then and there, just so she could avoid the utter embarrassment of the moment. Ginny's face burned like the setting sun.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry, concern filling his face. That only made it worse.

_No, I want to die._ "Fine, thanks," she managed in a sort of squeak. She cleared her throat. "Stupid Quaffle."

He looked at the Quaffle she had enchanted, which was bobbing alongside her. "Do you- do you need a hand?" he asked.

"No thank you," Ginny replied robotically, praying for her cheeks to stop burning. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Come on Ginny, you can't practice on your own. Whatever was putting you off your game today, I want to help." He looked beseechingly at her. Ginny wondered if he knew she couldn't say no to those eyes.

"O- okay. Thanks," she added as an afterthought.

They began to practise passing, with Ginny praying at every throw that she wouldn't mess it up. And weirdly, she didn't. They exchanged pass after increasingly energetic pass, and she caught every one, even when Harry tried to catch her out with a trick throw.

"Hey, no fair!" she protested, deftly catching it anyway.

"Well, if you think I'm going to go easy on you…" he began, but was cut short when Ginny sent a retaliatory throw zipping through his outstretched hands. It had been Harry who had put her off her game with his sudden coldness towards her, but it seemed like now it was Harry who had given it back. She grinned, and he grinned back.

A floating warmth flooded through Harry's body as he drew up alongside her. "That was… really good!" he managed, his head befuddled by the thrill of being near her.

Her smile was warm and genuine and it heated Harry to the tips of his toes. "Thanks!" Ginny brushed her windswept hair off her face. "Ummm… is there anything else you want to run through?" She bit her lip.

Harry's body felt numb, like a rag doll, and he was acutely aware of the blood pulsing through his veins. His Firebolt floated closer to her broomstick as if of its own accord, and a shock went through him as their knees brushed. _How about we run through me sweeping you off your broomstick and kissing you until-_

"Um! Um, no, nothing!" he said hurriedly, moving abruptly to a safe three feet away from her.

"Oh right," Ginny said softly, hoping her disappointment didn't register on her face. "Well… I'd better let you get on with your practice then."

"Right."

"Have fun."

"Will do."

On her way back to the castle Ginny uttered some choice curse words under her breath. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she berated herself. "Of _course_ he doesn't want to be around you, he's terrified he'll do something he'll regret!" _Like kiss me_, she thought miserably. 

_What would she do if I kissed her?_ Harry mused to himself an hour later as he went in to get changed. She'd used to have a crush on him, hadn't she? But that was gone now. Now all he could see was that whenever he was around, she was hurting inside and no one but him seemed to see it. And whenever he saw her, that was the only thing that made him fight the urge to go over and kiss her… an urge that was growing stronger and more persistent as time went on.

_Am I that repulsive to her?_ he thought, kicking an empty bin moodily. There was a sudden movement in the high window of the changing room, but when Harry looked up there was nothing there but a square of twilit sky.

As he showered and dressed, Harry's feverish brain was occupied by only one question – how to make Ginny happy again. She had been happy right up to the point when this potion came over him, right up to the point where he fell in love with her. Which must mean that she did not return his feelings. _So_, Harry thought with the twisted logic of the insane or deeply in love, _all I have to do is make her fall in love with me and she'll be happy again._ He smiled to himself, hope firing his senses.

* * *

The next day, Harry was in a better mood than he'd been in all week. "Afternoon," he said brightly to Ron and Hermione as he plopped into an armchair between them in the common room. 

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "Why weren't you at lunch?"

"Lunch?" Harry was fazed for a moment. "Oh yeah…lunch. Forgot about that. Oh well, I'm not really hungry anyway." He missed the look Hermione and Ron exchanged.

"Did you get your Charms essay back?"

He had, but had forgotten to look at it. Harry took it out of his bag. There was a large green 'D' at the bottom, followed by the comment 'Were you paying full attention to this work?' in Flitwick's loopy scrawl. He glanced through the essay, and stopped at a sentence halfway through, which the professor had helpfully ringed. _'While the Defendeus shares many key attributes with the Protegus charm, Ginny is so beautiful there are also important differences in application arising from the two charms' differing I hate Dean results.' _Harry winced.

"What did you get?" asked Hermione anxiously. "Because with exams coming up so soon, you should really be aiming for straight Os…"

Harry rolled up the parchment and put it in his bag. "I got an O," he reassured her with a smile.

Ron said something just then, but Harry didn't hear it because he had just heard Ginny's voice behind him. He couldn't hear the words, but she sounded tired.

"Harry? Harry!"

He glanced up. "Hmm?"

Ron glowered at him. "I said you haven't forgotten about tonight, have you?"

Harry racked his brains. He recalled the pair of them telling him something before he went to Charms, but Ginny had been walking past at that particular moment and he hadn't really taken it in.

"Erm… tonight…" he searched for clues in their faces.

Hermione sighed. "The Indicating Ink will be ready, but I can't make it because of extra Ancient Runes and _Ron_ just got himself a detention from Snape." She turned on Ron, who rolled his eyes as if to say 'not again!' "Honestly, what did you think you were doing? He doesn't even teach you any more, AND you're a Prefect, and yet you still managed to get a detention!"

"What did you do?" asked Harry.

"Absolutely _nothing_!" Ron protested. "Until that great lump Bulstrode came cannoning into me out of nowhere, knocked me right over. It was right after you'd gone, Harry, you should have seen it, she was practically crushing me!" His face darkened. "Sabotage, that's what it was, trying to knock out our captain before Saturday's match!"

"How did that get you detention?"

"It was when I was trying to push her off me, Snape came along and accused me of _brawling_." Ron descended into unintelligible mutters. Harry caught the occasional words like 'greasy old git' and 'bloody Slytherins'.

Hermione turned to look at Harry earnestly. "This means you need to go and collect a vial of Indicating Ink yourself. But you must only collect it once it has turned deep purple, Harry, that's very important, deep purple. Harry? Are you listening?"

Harry blinked. "Right, yes. Vial. Deep purple." He attempted to look like someone who was in complete control. In reality his heart had been in his mouth since Ginny walked in.

* * *

Later that afternoon Harry was on his way to the library when he caught sight of Ginny and Mena Selari in the corridor ahead of him. 

"Ginny!" he called, running to catch up. The girls turned round as he reached them. "Could I have a word?" he asked. Ginny glanced at Mena.

"Oh, don't mind me!" the dark-haired girl said hurriedly. "I'll see you in Divination, okay?" With that she hared off down the corridor.

Looking somewhat abandoned, Ginny looked awkwardly at Harry. "What… um, what do you want? I'll be late for Divination…"

"I'll walk you!" he said eagerly, and they set off down the corridor. Ginny walked in silence, not looking up at him. "Oh, there's a shortcut here!" said Harry suddenly after a while, and with some trepidation Ginny ducked after him behind a tapestry of Godefred the Giddy being killed by a dragon.

"How did you know about this?" asked Ginny as they started up a tiny spiral staircase. "_Lumos!_"

"My dad's map," said Harry simply. "Someone disappeared at this point so I had a look and here it was. It takes you almost to Trelawney's tower. Oops, careful!"

Harry reached out to catch Ginny as she almost slipped on a loose step. Half in his arms, Ginny gave a nervous laugh and steadied herself. She could not extricate his large warm hand from hers, though, and opted instead to carry on up the stairs as if nothing were happening, using him for support.

They reached the top of the stairs, and a large wooden door. "Um, thanks Harry," she mumbled, trying in vain to reclaim her hand.

"No problem. Um, Ginny, I was wondering…"

"What?"

He looked very serious by the dull light of her wand. "Why do I upset you so much?" he blurted.

Ginny was momentarily startled. "Upset me? You don't upset me…"

"Yes I do, ever since… well, you know. I can tell by the way you bite your bottom lip like that-" Ginny immediately stopped biting her lip "-and you always swallow hard before you speak, and you twiddle your fingers in a certain way and there's this… look on your eyes. I can always tell."

Ginny was taken aback at this detailed analysis of her body language. Was she really so obvious?

"I don't think everyone sees it," he said, squeezing her hand. "Remember this Christmas at the Burrow when they wouldn't let you play Quidditch with us, and you acted like you thought it was funny? You were upset then, and no one else seemed to notice."

Ginny snatched her hand back. "You didn't even like me then."

"Didn't I? Then why did I notice?" Ginny swallowed hard. Why was he doing this to her? "Please don't be upset!" Harry wanted to hug her, to hold her and make it better, but he only seemed to be making it worse. "Ginny - why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying!" she snapped, and wiped a trickle of a tear from her eye.

Harry felt a twisting pain in his gut. "Please, Ginny, what's so wrong with me that you can't look me in the eye? Don't you feel anything for me?" A hard lump was beginning to form in his throat.

Ginny raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. "Can't you _see_ what's wrong with you?" Harry felt like he was falling from a great height. "This isn't real, Harry! This isn't what you'd be doing if you were in your right senses! This isn't _you_!"

And before he could reply she had wrenched open the door and disappeared.

* * *

It was just after teatime and the Gryffindor common room was full of people chatting and playing games like Gobstones and Exploding Snap. There was a small group of third years giggling in a corner, one of two of them glancing over every so often to check that Hermione and Ron, the only prefects in attendance, weren't paying them too much attention. 

Hermione and Ron, however, had other things on their minds. Neither Harry nor Ginny had been seen all evening.

"I'm sure they're not _together_," said Hermione for the hundredth time, but looking worried all the same. "And even if they were…"

"They'd better not be!" interjected Ron. "It's all very well in theory, Harry noticing her and that, but he'd better not be out there… _noticing_ her now!"

"I'm sure he's not," said Hermione absently. Ron turned to see what she was looking at.

"Why do you keep staring at those fifth years?" he asked.

Hermione blushed. "Staring? I'm not staring at anything…" but just at that moment the group got up and she was up in a flash and hurrying over to where they had been sitting.

Looking puzzled, Ron followed her. "What are you – what's that?"

Hermione was poring over a length of parchment. "Nothing, nothing… oh, this is very poor… barely merits an Acceptable…"

Ron snatched it off her and looked at it. "Mena Selari's Potions essay? What are you reading this for?"

"Shhhh!" snapped Hermione, putting the parchment back where it had been left. "I was checking on a hunch."

"What? What hunch?"

Hermione led him back to where they had been seated. "It's nothing, Ron," she started, but on seeing his look she gave in. "Oh, alright. We know that someone tried to give you a love potion, so I was just checking a likely candidate."

"You… you think Mena Selari is the one who tried to give me the potion?" spluttered Ron.

"Well I did," Hermione said calmly. "But I don't any more. That girl couldn't brew a love potion if she tried. No feel for the subject whatsoever."

Ron had gone red by this point. "But... but what made you think…?"

"Well how many girls do you know with a massive crush on you?" sniffed Hermione. "It does narrow the field a little bit. Besides which, had you thought that whoever it was might not give up so easily?"

"What do you mean?" Ron chose to ignore her previous comment.

"Well," she said patiently, "have you considered the possibility that they might see it hasn't worked and try it again?"

Ron looked a little panicked. "Er… no. I hadn't really thought of that." He glanced around the common room suspiciously.

"Just be careful, Ron. The last thing we need is for you to be mooning around someone the way Harry is with Ginny. Imagine if it was someone like Millicent Bulstrode or Eloise Midgen!"

"If that ever happens," said Ron, looking a little jumpy, "tie me to a chair and get Dumbledore immediately."

"Have you seen an essay lying around anywhere?" said Mena, appearing behind Ron, causing him to jump about a foot in the air.

"Oh, hi," he said. "I think there's one just over there!" Mena smiled and thanked him and Ron grinned, as if he were remembering what Hermione had said about her having a crush on him.

"No problem," he said, with what could have been an attempt at a wink.

Hermione's sigh was audible. "We don't _know_ it's not her," she said shortly.

"Yeah we do," Ron said. "Besides, you're just jealous."

She went pink. "_Jealous_? What do you mean, _jealous_?" she hissed.

"You're jealous that somebody likes me enough to put a love spell on me!" Ron burst out.

Hermione had just opened her mouth to retort when Harry appeared. At the same moment the third years in the corner burst into uncontrollable giggling as one of them began to grow hair all over his face at an alarming rate. Without a word Ron stood up and marched over.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Are you alright? Ron and I were worried about you."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry was aware that he was convincing nobody. They could hear Ron's voice amongst the background hubbub: _"Boys, magical hair growth potion is not a toy!"_

"It's just Ginny!" Harry blurted. "I don't get her!" Just saying her name out loud gave him a bittersweet throb somewhere in his chest.

"What don't you get?" asked Hermione, keeping her expression blank.

"Why do I upset her so much?" he asked, feeling that same hard lump rising in his throat. "I try to tell her I like her, and I end up hurting her! I just don't get it!" He realised his hands were balled into tight fists.

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Harry…" she started, "do you have any idea why Ginny's upset with you?"

Harry considered. "She said I wasn't me, that it wasn't real…"

"Exactly. Your feelings might seem real to you but to Ginny they're a cruel joke, because she knows they're the result of the potion." Harry opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him. "Whatever you might think, Harry, you can't know your true feelings until we find an antidote. Then if you still feel the same, tell her."

"But she doesn't like me that way," groaned Harry. "She gets all upset every time-"

Hermione couldn't believe how dense boys could be. "Ginny gets upset, Harry," she interrupted, "because she has liked you that way since before she even came to Hogwarts."

Harry felt a light bubbly feeling start in his stomach. "I thought she – she got over that…"

"She settled for being friends, Harry," said Hermione. "But she never got over it!"

The bubbly feeling spread all over, and there was a buzzing in his ears. She never got over it… she liked him… Ginny _liked him_! He was aware that he must look a little manic, but he couldn't keep the ear-to-ear grin off his face. The most beautiful, funny, gorgeous girl at Hogwarts… liked him!

He faintly heard Hermione mutter, "Oh dear. I shouldn't have told him that..."

_To Be Continued…_


	10. Myrtle Makes Mischief

Chapter 10 – Myrtle Makes Mischief

Author's Note: Ta da! Still alive and kicking. I promise I will finish this story, and sooner rather than later.

* * *

It was just after midnight. Severus Snape strode along the darkened second floor corridor with the determined stride of a man on a mission. Hadn't he known Potter and his friends were up to something? Catching them red-handed would be proof even Professor Dumbledore could not turn a blind eye to.

With a grim half-smile Snape saw the proof he needed, a sliver of light emerging from the flooded girls' bathroom. Silently he pushed open the door and stepped noiselessly into the room. The faint light was coming from a cubicle at the far end. With a few strides he was at the door and ready to burst in, sure that he would at last find the proof he needed of Potter's troublemaking.

"_ALOHOMORA! LUMOS!" _

The cubicle door flung open and the professor was taken aback at what he saw by the bright light of his wand. It was Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, caught in the middle of an embrace, guilt written all over their faces as they jumped apart.

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

It was surprisingly sunny. Ginny was sitting in the highest seats at the back of the deserted Quidditch stands, her broomstick lying unused at her feet. The sun was shining brightly from a cold grey sky, bathing the pitch in crisp, cool light. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her robe to protect them from the chilly breeze that played around her, blowing her hair into her face. Did he know what he was doing to her? Harry had never exactly been high on emotional intelligence or the ability to see what was going on right under his nose. He and Ron usually relied upon Hermione to tell them what people were really feeling. She smiled. Sometimes Hermione even had to point out their own feelings to them.

Hermione had been the one who helped Ginny to get over her girlish crush on Harry; in fact she had been the only one to whom Ginny had ever told the true extent of her feelings towards him. Hermione had encouraged her to stop being afraid of Harry and get to know him as a friend. Sure enough, before long she had forgotten to blush whenever he around because she was having too much fun chatting about Quidditch or laughing at something Ron had done. Soon pining for Harry was the furthest thing from her mind.

Ginny brushed her unruly hair away from her face. _What changed_, she wondered. _Why do I care all of a sudden?_

She really had been over it. She'd gone out with a couple of boys, much to her brothers' horror, and it had gone okay. Somehow though it hadn't been possible to be friends with them at the same time. Perhaps it just wasn't possible to be friends with someone you were going out with, and vice-versa. Look at Hermione and Ron, they'd been friends for years and they'd never managed to get together, despite both their feelings. Perhaps you had to choose, friendship or love.

Thinking about Harry, Ginny smiled. He was a great friend to have. He was funny, sometimes by accident, and didn't take himself too seriously like Ron did. She remembered all the times he'd stood up for Colin Creevey even though he annoyed the hell out of him. Maybe he wasn't too quick on the uptake sometimes, and he was stupidly stubborn, but he would do anything for his friends, and he never held a grudge, and he always shared and he wasn't weirdly obsessed with Quidditch like some boys. And he let her fly his Firebolt. And he had lovely eyes.

Ginny blinked. _Scrap that last one, _she thought, mentally shaking herself. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her folded arms, partly for warmth, partly to try to control her thoughts and focus, focus on being Harry's friend. What did Harry need most from his friends right now? she wondered. _Understanding. Secrecy. Help._

Understanding. Well, there was no way she could really understand the reality of what he was going through, but she could try not to make it worse by going off at him like she had yesterday outside Trelawney's tower, for which she felt profoundly guilty now. He had enough to worry about without her making it worse.

Secrecy. She wouldn't be telling anyone any time soon, she could safely promise that.

Help. This couldn't be pleasant for Harry, she knew that. She knew full well what it was like to be possessed by a force outside herself, not to be in control of her own actions. Her experience in her first year with Riddle had left her feeling powerless and empty. She wanted to help Harry and Ron and Hermione fix this but since she had been excluded from their efforts she was completely in the dark. Maybe they had already found a cure. Maybe they were even administering it now. It was frustrating to know that she was the cause of Harry's pain and not be able to do anything to lessen it.

"Ginny."

Ginny almost thought the voice had come from inside her own head. She looked up and started as she was confronted with a familiar face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just came out for some air."

Ginny gestured at the broomstick by her feet. "I needed some practice." Harry sat silently beside her. Ginny wondered if she should leave right now, if her presence was unwittingly causing him discomfort. She continued to speak, the halting words seeming to spring unbidden from her lips. "The game's on Saturday - I was pretty rubbish last practice."

"No you weren't." She looked at him and he grinned ruefully and looked quickly away. "Okay, it wasn't the best you've ever played. But you were just distracted. Forget about what Ron said. You just need to stop worrying about the Slytherin players and concentrate on getting the Quaffle through the hoops."

"Oh, so that's what a Chaser does," she said. "I've always wondered."

He smiled, and behind the smile was a depth of affection that touched her. Ginny suddenly began to concentrate very hard on the seat in front of her.

"People forget it's that simple, sometimes. Forget about the fancy stuff, just get the ball through the hoops."

"And catch the Snitch," she added. "And hit the Bludgers. And avoid getting knocked off your broom. It doesn't sounds so simple then."

"Maybe not," Harry said. "But you can make it that simple."

They fell into silence. Ginny watched as a magpie hopped from seat to seat a few rows ahead. The sun went behind a cloud, dramatically bathing the stadium in shade. Harry's presence was oddly comforting, but she knew she should leave. The sun sprang from behind the cloud, warming Ginny immediately with its brightness. She took her hands out of her pockets and placed them by her sides and for a moment her hand accidentally brushed his.

"I didn't - "

"I'm sorry - "

They both stopped and Ginny felt her cheeks redden. "You go."

"No, you go first," he said quietly.

Looking out across the stadium, Ginny spoke. "I was just going to say I'm sorry for storming off yesterday. I know – I know it must be hard for you, having to see me. I know your actions aren't your own." He was silent beside her. "You've been a good friend to me," she continued, "especially this year, and you deserve the same from me. If my presence hurts you-"

"Ginny-" he tried to touch her hand and she pulled it away quickly.

"No, let me finish. If my presence hurts you then the best thing for me to do as a friend is to avoid seeing you until this is fixed. Then things can go back to the way they used to be."

He was silent. Ginny sneaked a sideways glance but he was looking at the floor. "Harry?"

"Right. Okay."

There was a long silence while Ginny wondered if she'd done more harm than good. "So... what were you going to say?"

He started as if she'd disturbed him from a dream.

"Hermione said -" he looked up at her and suddenly stopped. "Nothing. I was just going to tell you that Hermione's found a way to find out how to make the antidote. We're doing a potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I'm fetching it tonight."

"That's great," she said, mustering up her most encouraging voice, whilst hoping that whatever the potion was, it wasn't dangerous.

"I might even be cured by the Slytherin match," he added, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

"Great," she said, and then realised that she was repeating herself. "I should go."

Harry stayed for a long time after Ginny had left, watching the quiet solitude of the wintry castle grounds. There had been no way to control his joy earlier when Hermione had told him what he had yearned and hoped and never expected to hear, that Ginny still liked him in _that way_. Still liked him! His mind had filled with daydreams of what he would do, what he would say, when he next saw her. They could go into Hogsmeade and drink Butterbeer at the inn, spend Valentine's day together, and in the summer they could study together under the trees by the lake... It took Hermione three loud calls of "Harry!" to to awake him from his reverie.

Eventually Hermione had got him to promise not to do anything rash, but when he saw that Ginny was missing at lunch he could not help coming to find her. It tore him up inside to think that he had been causing her pain, and his first instinct was to find her and try to make it better in any way he could. He also just wanted to be near her. Even her presence was enough to cheer and comfort him. Having her close by his side and being able to speak to her and laugh with her just now had filled him with a wonderful warmth that filled his whole body and brought an ear-to-ear grin to his face.

But Hermione had been wrong. He shivered, suddenly very cold and very alone. Ginny had made it very clear that she wanted to be his friend, as she always had been, and nothing more. She wanted things to go back to how they were before. But that was no longer enough for Harry.

* * *

That night, Ginny was getting ready for bed in one of the crooked old girls' bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower. She could not stop thinking about the potion that Hermione was brewing in the closed-off bathroom. Harry had said he would be going to get it tonight. Was it the antidote? Could Harry already be cured? Just then she heard the familiar sound of Moaning Myrtle's high-pitched squeal as she sulked her way down a nearby pipe. Without really thinking what she was doing, Ginny leaned down towards the plughole and called out.

"Myrtle. Myrtle!"

The wailing stopped and after a moment Ginny was splashed in the face as a pale watery form erupted from the sink. It was Myrtle, as cheerful as ever. She floated out of the sink and gently came to rest on the edge of the bath.

"What?" she griped tearfully. "I was busy, you know."

Ginny decided to get right to the point. "Myrtle, I heard that Hermione's been making a potion in your bathroom and I just wanted to know about it."

"You mean, you thought, 'poor Myrtle, she'd got nothing better to do with her time than spend time in a blocked up loo watching that horrible girl making some stupid potion...'" The ghost girl huffed and turned to face the wall.

She decided to try a different tack. "Not at all. I heard that you know everything that goes on in this castle. When I wanted to know whether anyone had been to collect the potion tonight, I immediately knew that all I had to do was ask you."

Myrtle giggled. "I do know everything, you know. People don't think I see, but I do. I know everybody's little secrets. I can get into the boys' showers, you know."

Ginny pulled a face and tried to look impressed. "Really? That's great."

Myrtle smirked. "You could too, you know. It's easy, if you're in the girls' changing rooms already-"

"I'll think about it," said Ginny hurriedly. "But Myrtle, you were telling me about that potion. Has Hermione gone to collect it yet?"

Myrtle sniffed. "That horrible frizzy haired girl? She said it would be ready tonight at midnight. It's her own fault for being mean to me if she _happens_ to get caught. She shouldn't have said what she said. She deserves to get caught."

A small flame of suspicion appeared in Ginny's mind. She tried to keep her face neutral. "What happened?"

Myrtle began playing coyly with the curtain around the bath. "She was _horrible_ to me, what's what happened. She told me to go away. So I went away just like she told me to and _maybe_ while I was going away I happened to pop up in the staff bathroom and _maybe_ I accidentally told a certain tall nasty professor that somebody had been breaking the rules and going in my bathroom at night. It's not my fault, she shouldn't have been horrible!"

"Myrtle!" Ginny grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the door and, slipping her wand in the pocket, hurried quietly downstairs.

* * *

Harry was in the furthest cubicle of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, looking impatiently at his watch. It was nearly midnight, and the wretched Indicating Ink showed no sign of changing colour from blue to purple. He just wanted to fill the vial and leave.

Suddenly he heard hurrying footsteps, and someone burst into the bathroom. He drew his wand, but then he heard Ginny's voice. "Harry?"

"Ginny!" He opened the door and she burst into the cubicle, panting.

"You've got to get out, Harry, Snape's on his way here!" she gasped.

"How-" Harry started but Ginny interrupted.

"He'll be here in a couple of minutes, we've got to vanish this stuff!"

"No!" Harry whispered, grabbing her wand hand. "I've got to fill the vial as soon as it turns purple!" The potion was still bright blue.

Ginny looked around in panic. "Go," Harry urged her, but she shook her head in refusal and shut the cubicle door behind her, looking up at him stubbornly.

"If you're staying, I'm not going anywhere. We can both get in trouble."

"Don't be stupid -" he stopped suddenly, distracted. Ginny realised with horror that he was looking at her feet "Are those fluffy bunny slippers?"

Just let me die right now, she thought. Let the bathroom floor open up and swallow me and the fluffy bunny slippers too. "They were a present," she squeaked.

Harry transferred his eyes to her face. Neither of them moved in the long, laden pause that followed.

"Hermione told me you still like me," he blurted out suddenly, though he knew it was a deeply inappropriate moment. "Is it true?"

Ginny opened her mouth and shut it again. There was absolutely nothing she could say.

"Because I really like you" he whispered. "I know you think it's the potion but it's not, I swear to you. And I'll prove it, as soon as Hermione finds the antidote." _Oh, and by the way, I really really love you, _his heart screamed. He resisted the urge to shout it out loud.

For some reason this did not have the same effect on Ginny as before. Instead of wanting to cry, she felt like flinging her arms round his neck. He captured her hand in both of his, and she was shocked by the pure intensity with which he looked at her. _If he kisses me, I don't think I've got the strength to say no._

Suddenly there was a sound – a footstep outside the door to the bathroom. For a moment, time seemed to stand still and then Ginny's eyes flew to the potion. It had turned a deep, rich purple. In a flurry she filled the glass vial and as she slipped it into her robes Harry vanished the cauldron and the remaining potions apparatus. Harry was just reaching for his Invisibility cloak to cover them both when there was a footstep outside their cubicle and the pair froze, pressed close together in the confined space. Harry felt like he was falling into Ginny's scared dark eyes.

Without even thinking about it Harry leaned forward as if he had been reeled in. Ginny's heart leaped into her mouth as Harry drew closer to her.

"_ALOHOMORA! LUMOS!"_

Suddenly the door flew open to reveal the tall dark form of Professor Snape. Harry and Ginny leaped apart guiltily. "Well, well, well. _Potter_ _and_ _Weasley_," the professor smirked, as if they had made his week.

"P- Professor..."

"No need to explain, Potter," Snape said in an oily voice. "There's nothing you could say to mitigate your current circumstances."

"But it's not what it looks like-"

"Potter, this area has been out of bounds since your second year, a fact of which I am certain you are aware. Do you frequently spend time in girls' bathrooms, Potter?"

Harry fumed inwardly. "No, Professor Snape."

"So you say. However, since you seem to enjoy each others' company so much, you can both spend tomorrow night scouring cauldrons in my office. Report to me straight after dinner."

"But Professor," burst out Ginny hotly, "that's the night before the match! We've got practice!"

"Something you should have taken into consideration before leaving your beds this evening. Consider yourselves lucky to have escaped with a detention." The professor's lips curled into a cruel imitation of a smile. "Mr. Filch informed me only yesterday evening that he has just polished his leg-irons and he is of the opinion that they would be an extremely appropriate punishment for wayward students. I must say that I'm coming round to the idea."

The walk back to Gryffindor tower seemed to last forever. Snape had summoned Filch to escort them back and Filch seemed to take particular pleasure in keeping his beady eyes on their every step, as if taking Snape's instruction to "keep an eye on them" quite literally. The Fat Lady did not seem at all pleased to be woken up to let them in, but when she saw who it was giving the password ("Go Go Gryffindor") her expression softened. "Good luck in the Quidditch on Saturday, young man," she whispered as her portrait swung open to admit them.

The common room was dark and silent when they entered. Harry turned to Ginny and his whole being seemed to ache with the longing to hold her. Her face was half illuminated by a single ray of moonlight that had got through a chink in the curtains.

"You'll need this." She took the glass vial from her robes and held it out. Reluctantly, he took it, knowing that any minute now she would have to go.

"Thanks for trying to warn me," he said. "How did you find out?"

"Myrtle told me."

"Right." _I love you._

She glanced towards the girls' dorms. "I should really go to bed."

"I suppose." _And_ _I love you._

"Night, Harry."

"Night." Ten seconds later she had disappeared up the stairs. Harry looked at the final spot on the banister where she had rested her hand for a long time after she had gone."I love you."


	11. Head Over Heels

Chapter 11: Head over Heels

Harry awoke the following day to someone shaking his arm. Groggily, he grabbed his glasses form the night stand and shoved them onto his face. Ron was standing over him. Harry suddenly remembered guiltily how close he had been last night to kissing his best friend's little sister.

"Did you get the Indicating Ink?" Ron whispered. "Hermione wants to test the pumpkin juice."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, a bit grumpily, rolling out of bed. It had taken him what felt like hours to fall asleep last night. He had been unable to stop himself replaying the whole night's events over and over in his head: Ginny bursting in, the stubborn expression on her face as she refused to leave, the fluffy slippers, the way he'd been unable to stop himself spilling out his feelings to her, the stunned expression on her face as he'd felt himself drawn inexorably towards what was almost a kiss, the vindictive expression on Snape's face as he'd caught them. Harry had a strange feeling he might also have dreamed about it last night. It felt like it had only happened a few minutes ago.

"It's half seven," said Ron. "Hermione wants to get it over with before lessons so she can get on with the antidote. You did get it okay, didn't you?" He looked a little anxious.

"Yeah, fine," lied Harry. He didn't know why, but he couldn't tell Ron about Ginny and Snape and the detention. He felt like Ron might blame Ginny for getting herself detention as well as Harry.

Hermione was already waiting for them in the common room with the remains of Ron's pumpkin juice, now decanted from the Chudley Cannons flask into a small glass vial. She took the Indicating Ink and examined its purple hue. "Just the right colour," she said, looking pleased. The Common Room was empty at that hour, but for privacy they chose a secluded table near a window. Harry's heart fluttered weakly in his chest as he realised that this could be the key to finding the antidote. It gave him a strange sinking feeling to think about it. The rational part of his brain knew that this was necessary and that he couldn't spend the rest of his life under the influence of a mystery potion, but the rest of him seemed incapable of rational thought and could only think about the next time he would see Ginny.

Carefully, Hermione dropped several drops of Indicating Ink into the vial of pumpkin juice. Nothing happened. Hermione gave the vial a little shake, and added two more drops. Still nothing happened. The colour of the Indicating Ink seemed to disappear as it hit the surface of the liquid, and it was just as orange as before.

"Is that meant to happen?" Ron asked. Hermione ignored him and added three more drops of potion. Again, nothing changed.

"This doesn't make sense," she muttered, adding more drops and shaking the vial briskly.

"What?" asked Ron. "Hasn't it worked?"

"No, it's worked," answered Hermione, looking at Ron and Harry gravely. "But what it's showing is that there isn't anything in this vial but pumpkin juice!"

"But he drank it and then straight after he was like this!" spluttered Ron. "What else could it be?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. I was so sure that would be it."

"So we're back to square bloody one!"

Hermione ignored Ron and they fell into silence. Hermione looked as if she were thinking very hard trying to work out another solution, and not having much luck.

"What now then?" They both looked at Harry, who had spoken dully.

"We could-" Hermione faltered, looking from Ron to Harry and back again. The expression on her face was very familiar.

Harry's face clouded. "Don't even think about it," he said. "I'm not going to a teacher."

"But we've run out of options!" she said. "It was all very well when we thought we knew how it happened and I thought I could brew an antidote-"

"I'm with Harry," said Ron staunchly. "And what about the Quidditch tomorrow? What if they won't let him play? We have to beat Slytherin to even stand a chance at the Cup!" Harry nodded furiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly at Ron, and then turned earnestly to Harry. "But once the Quidditch is over, what then? What about your school work? What about exams? You can't stay like this forever."

"I know," said Harry, his thoughts racing. He had the feeling that now they had reached a dead end Hermione was likely to tell McGonagall, despite his objections.

"What about Pomfrey?" said Ron suddenly. "She's pretty good at keeping stuff secret."

Hermione was unable to find fault with this idea, and finally, after a considerable amount of persuasion from Ron and Hermione, Harry agreed to go to Madame Pomfrey after the Quidditch match the next day.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Ginny arrived at the Great Hall late that morning. She had overslept, and had to be shaken awake by the house elf who had come to make the beds. "Five more minutes, Mum," she mumbled, half asleep, as the elf shook her by the shoulder. Then she rolled over and was confronted with a huge pair of green eyes. "Pinky?" The tiny grey elf reminded her very much of the elf she had met in the boys' Quidditch changing rooms when she had gone down to investigate what had happened to Harry.

The elf shook its head, and replied in a squeaky voice. "No, miss, it's Bibby. I is sorry to be waking you, miss, but I has to tidy the dormitories." Bibby seemed a lot more sure of herself – or himself, it was hard to be sure – than Pinky.

Ginny looked at the time and swore. "Sorry – I'll get out of your way" she said, grabbing her clothes and sprinting for the bathroom, two steps at a time. Breakfast at Hogwarts was Ginny's favourite meal, and she never missed it.

Ginny did not realise until she reached the Great Hall what today was, and from the slightly bemused expressions on some of her classmates' faces, neither had they. The bewitchment on the magical ceiling of the hall now included several fat, cherubic cupids floating across it, with bows and arrows in their hands, and there were large pink and red hearts decorating the walls.

"What's going on?" she asked Mena Selari as she sat down and began to help herself to breakfast. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting several feet away, further down the table.

"Oh, Valentine's Day," said Mena, grinning. "Flitwick did the decorations, I overheard him telling McGonagall that a group of third years practically begged him to do it. Look, I got these!" Mena showed Ginny three anonymously sent Valentine's cards.

Ginny groaned inwardly. This was all she needed, cherubs and hearts and people getting Valentine's cards all around her, considering the bizarre romantic situation she found herself in. She risked a glance at Harry and saw that he was sitting half way down the table with Ron and Hermione, looking about as thrilled as she was.

"Don't worry, I didn't get anything either," said Colin Creevey in a comforting tone, seeing Ginny's expression.

Just then an owl zoomed overhead and dropped an envelope into Ginny's lap.

"Ooh," said Maud Greengrass excitedly. "Who's it from?"

Wondering for one fluttering second if it could be from Harry, Ginny ripped opened the envelope and read a few lines of text on a piece of parchment.

"_Miss Weasley_

_Your detention will take place in my office tonight at seven PM sharp. It will last as long as I feel is necessary._

_Yours,_

_Professor S. Snape"_

"It's from Snape," she said bitterly, showing her classmates. Amid the flurry of exclamations and questions as to what she had done to get a detention, Ginny looked over and saw that Harry was holding what looked like the same letter. Ron and Hermione both seemed to be speaking at once and neither of them looked very happy. Harry looked positively miserable. Just then he glanced up and met her eyes. Ginny gave him an encouraging sort of half-smile and he smiled back. There was a warm moment in which neither looked away and then -

"Harry, your elbow's in the butter!"

Harry started, looked at Dean, who had spoken, and then at his elbow, which was indeed resting in the butter dish. When he looked back at Ginny she was talking to her friends again.

"Harry," Hermione asked quietly, when everyone had stopped laughing at Harry's clumsiness and gone back to their breakfasts. "When were you going to tell us about the detention?"

Harry felt stupid. "I don't know," he muttered. "I would have eventually." Ron muttered something about Ginny getting into trouble, and Harry felt his face go hot. "If it weren't for her, Snape would have caught me before I had time to Vanish the potions stuff and I'd have been in much worse trouble!" he said, louder than he'd intended.

There was a brief lull in the conversation around them and a few people looked at Harry curiously. Just then a tardy owl zoomed over the Gryffindor table and dropped a bright pink envelope on Ron's head. "Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing it and opening the envelope, looking peeved.

It was a card, the front emblazoned with an enchanted picture of a fat baby cupid. Blushing to the tips of his ears, Ron opened the card very close to his face so that no one else could read it. Going even redder, if that was possible, he quickly slammed it shut again and shoved it into his bag.

"Who was that from?" asked Hermione, little pink spots in her cheeks.

"No one," replied Ron swiftly, his face still burning. "I mean, I dunno."

There was a pause. Harry looked curiously at Ron, but then his eyes wandered to the group of fifth years who were leaving the hall, Ginny in their midst.

"Well," said Hermione, with false brightness. "Shall we go?"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Everywhere Harry went that day he seemed to be surrounded by girls giggling over Valentine's cards. As if this weren't enough, every time he saw Ron and Hermione they seemed to be having muttered conversations that they cut short as soon as he appeared.

He did not see Ginny again until their detention that evening. When Harry arrived at Snape's office she was already there, looking mutinous.

"Since you seem to enjoy each other's company so much," began Snape sharply as soon as Harry entered the room, "you will both be spending this evening scouring cauldrons." He indicated a pile of cauldrons that towered to the high stone ceiling. "Without magic," he added. "Wands on my desk, both of you."

"But Professor, that'll take hours!" Ginny started, but Snape cut her off, his tone dangerous.

"I suggest you make a start then, Miss Weasley, as you will be here until it is finished."

She looked as if she wanted to say something else but Harry's hand closed gently around her wrist in warning. Harry knew that Snape needed no excuse to give them detention every night for the next week. Though, he reflected, at least then he would have an excuse to spend time with her. Reluctantly they both took out their wands and placed them in front of Snape. Ginny's was perhaps a quarter of an inch shorter than Harry's and made of a smooth, sand-coloured wood.

Snape began marking a pile of essays and Harry and Ginny turned to the heap of cauldrons. They were disgusting, some crusted with bits of dried slugs and earwigs, some with burnt-on remnants of potions, and Harry spent half an hour scraping from one something that looked like troll bogeys.

They worked for what seemed like hours, and before long they were both filthy, hot and exhausted. Ginny could not help noticing that Harry seemed to end up taking most of the most disgusting cauldrons himself. They worked in silence, aware of Snape sitting a few feet away at his desk. Unspoken questions seemed to be fighting to get out of Ginny's mouth. Had they got an antidote? Was Harry cured? He wouldn't look at her, though she tried several times to catch his eye.

Finally, Snape looked at his wristwatch and stood up. "I will be back in five minutes," he said, glowering at them both. "Do not leave this room and do not touch anything."

Harry waited until Snape was well clear of the room before he stopped scrubbing rat brains off the cauldron in front of him and stretched upright, his back aching. Ginny put her cauldron down too and went over to Snape's desk.

"Damn!" she said. "He took our wands with him. Otherwise we could have saved ourselves some time."

Harry checked his watch. It was already nearly ten o'clock!

"Ginny, I'm sorry," he said, sitting down on an upturned cauldron. "It's my fault you're in this mess."

"Nonsense," she said firmly, pulling up a cauldron next to him. "I'm just sorry I didn't get to you sooner. Stupid Myrtle!"

"Hermione wouldn't tell me what happened between them to set Myrtle off," said Harry. "But it means that if Hermione does somehow find out how to make an antidote, we can't brew it in Myrtle's bathroom." Briefly he explained about the pumpkin juice, the Indicating Ink and the negative result. "So Hermione and Ron are making me see Pomfrey after the Slytherin match tomorrow."

"Don't you want to?"

He shrugged. "What else is there to do? Hermione pointed out I can't stay like this forever."

"Pomfrey's really good though," Ginny said comfortingly. "She won't tell anyone unless she has to."

Harry looked at her. Her deep brown eyes were full of sympathy and he suddenly noticed she had very long eyelashes. He didn't think he could look away. Hesitantly, Harry took a deep breath and aired his deepest worry. "Yeah, but what if she has to ask Sna-"

But at that moment Snape re-entered the room and they both jumped to their feet and busied themselves on the pile of cauldrons.

It was nearly half past eleven by the time they had finished. Snape had ignored their repeated pleading to let them use their wands ("But it's the match tomorrow, Professor!") and inspected each cauldron thoroughly, making them scrub several again before he would let them leave.

"He was just looking for a reason to keep us longer," said Ginny glumly as they headed up the stone steps of the entrance hall on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "Just because we're playing Slytherin tomorrow!"

"And because he hates me," added Harry.

"That slimy git. I'm sure I've never made a cauldron as dirty as some of those were. He probably spent half of today putting extra rat brains on them."

Harry laughed, and looked down at himself. "I can't wait to get out of these clothes."

"Me too," said Ginny fervently, and then blushed to the roots of her hair. "I mean-"

"I know," said Harry, forcing back a smile.

They continued to walk in conspicuous silence, and Harry had to fight very hard not to try and take hold of Ginny's hand. He eventually decided to walk along with his hands folded in front of him as the one closest to Ginny kept twitching dangerously. Ron had told them that he would be waiting up for them in the common room, and Harry was almost glad when they reached the corridor that contained the portrait hole.

"You'll be fine tomorrow," he blurted unexpectedly. Ginny looked sideways at him, surprised. "I mean – you'll be great. You're a great Chaser."

Ginny stopped suddenly, and Harry stopped too, still clutching his hands together tightly.

"Thanks, Harry, I know I'll be fine now," she said, eyeing him. "What I want to know is will you be okay?"

"I told you, I'm going to Pomfrey after the match -"

Ginny interrupted. "Yeah, I know that. I mean in the Quidditch. I don't want you to get hit by a Bludger or something because you're too busy worrying about me."

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it again. There was very little he could think of to say to that, at least very little that didn't involve admitting she was totally right and that he'd had the same doubts about his own performance. Instead he managed a muttered, "I'll be fine," and turned to go.

"Harry!" Reluctantly he turned back to face her. Her face was full of worry. "I'm serious, Harry. Please, please try to put me out of your head. Not just because we need to win the match, because you could get hurt!"

Harry took a little step towards her, and - "Peeves!" The poltergeist appeared round a corner and hurled what a water balloon at them. They both ducked and it flew harmlessly over their heads and soaked a portrait of a sleeping wizard, who woke up and began to curse at them.

"Potty and Weezly, Potty and Weezly," he chanted. "Sneaking about at night, you'll get into trouble if you're not careful!"

"Let's go," began Harry but before either of them could move there was an enormous rushing and clanking as Peeves, cackling madly, pulled the carpet from under their feet. Ginny grabbed Harry for support but there was nothing either of them could do to prevent themselves falling to the floor. Ginny gave a winded 'oof!' as Harry fell on top of her. Harry tried to shield her from the clattering suits of armour that were falling all around them.

The clanking stopped and then several things happened at once. Harry realised he was still lying on top of Ginny. He also realised that Ginny had her arms tightly round him. At the same time they both heard the portrait hole open

Trying to disentangle themselves, Harry and Ginny looked up to see a red faced Ron, half-way out of the portrait hole. Ron's mouth fell open a little.

"Ron," said Harry, struggling to get up and help Ginny up too. "This- this isn't what it looks like."

"Of course it isn't," chuckled the Fat Lady disbelievingly. "Now are you coming in or not?"

* * *

_Author's note: whether you love it or hate it, please review it! :)_


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